Beatrice, worn out and feeling intensely lonely, could have wept because of the kindness of this reception. But she restrained her tears, as she had no desire to make her eyes red for the meeting with Lady Watson. She had some luncheon, and then dressed herself in her best mourning and took her way to the great lady's house, which was not very far away in a quiet square. Mrs. Quail, the landlady, sent a small servant to show Beatrice where the square was, and once there, the girl soon found the house by its number. But when she rang the bell, and stood alone on the doorstep, she felt very nervous. All the same her courage did not give way. The interview meant much to her, and she was determined to carry it through, cost what it might. The footman who opened the door said that his mistress was within, and conducted Beatrice up a well-carpeted flight of wide, shallow stairs into the drawing-room. The house was well furnished, and in a rather frivolous way, which reflected the spirit of its mistress. On all hands in the drawing-room Beatrice saw evidence of waste of money in little things. Lady Watson apparently liked comfort, and spent with a lavish hand. In the midst of this modern splendour the girl felt lost, accustomed as she was to the plainest of houses. (And, indeed, as a carping critic might have said, she was not accustomed even to houses, seeing that she lived in a disused railway carriage!) However, Beatrice had little time for thought. Hardly had she cast a glance round the apartment when Lady Watson entered with a rush. She looked as young and wrinkled as ever, and was dressed in a soft tea-gown exquisitely made. At the distance she looked twenty, but when near, and in spite of the blinds being down, she looked nearly forty. However her eyes, brown and bright, twinkled as merrily as ever, and, to Beatrice's surprise, she flung her arms round her visitor's neck. "My dear child," she rattled on, "I am glad to see you. I received your telegram, and stopped in, on purpose to see you. Of course you have come to be my companion? Your room is ready, and we will be such friends. Ah, you don't know how I love you!" "Why should you?" asked Beatrice, rather surprised by this gushing reception, and mistrusting its truth. "Oh, there are a thousand reasons. I'll tell you them later. Come, my dearest child, take off your jacket and hat, and----" "No, Lady Watson. I have only come for a short visit I want you to get me a situation as a governess, and----" "A governess with your beauty!" cried the little woman; "what nonsense! Let me look at you, dearest"; and she pulled up the near blind to let in the sunlight on the girl. It made Beatrice look like an angel, and Lady Watson aged in the golden splendour at least a dozen years. "Oh, you are lovely, lovely! Why, what are you looking at? Oh, at my necklace! Beautiful diamonds are they not?"