"I can't make it out," she said to herself. "It seems so odd and inconsistent. And--I have not done so very much for her after all. They write as if I were her dearest friend, and in a sense responsible for her! I like her. There is a great deal of good in her, but the only real service I have done her since she came to London was getting Mr Montague to beg her in again, that time she was given notice of dismissal for defiance of the society's rules." A smile came over Miss Norreys's face at the recollection of the circumstances, and with the letters still in her hand, she sat down at her neat breakfast-table. And when she had poured out her coffee and begun to eat, she glanced through them again. They had both come together, one from Winifred enclosing the other, which was from Mrs Maryon, simply inscribed to Miss Norreys, but without any address. This was Winifred's: "Dearest friend," and the words again drew forth a smile from the reader-- "I have just received the enclosed from my mother. It was left open for me to read the contents. I hope you will not mind their asking you in this unceremonious way, though I confess I think they should have left the invitation to _me_. I am afraid you would find it dreadfully dull down there. I am not at all sure if I shall get down myself for Easter, as I scarcely see how I am to be spared here. If I go, it will be principally for poor little Celia's sake; though _now_ it would, of course, be for yours too, should you possibly care to go. It certainly is very pretty in our part of the country in the spring. You will let me know what you decide!--Ever yours devotedly,-- "Winifred R.V. Maryon." The enclosure was a slightly stiff and yet cordial invitation--an invitation which gave one the feeling that the writer had not the slightest doubt of its being at once and eagerly accepted--to Miss Norreys, to spend Easter week at White Turrets. "You would give us pleasure by doing so," wrote Mrs Maryon, "and we should be glad to have an opportunity of thanking you for your kindness to my daughter, and of making the acquaintance of one to whom in her present life she looks for advice and direction. And there are several things I should be glad to talk over with you. We expect Winifred at the time I name, and you and she could travel together. I think there are special return tickets issued about Easter, and I hope a little country air would do you good." Hertha read and re-read. Was there, or was there not, a slight touch of "patronisingness" in the letter? The idea rather amused her.