has taken a fancy to Miss Westerfield, and would be only too glad
to deprive us of our pretty governess."

"Did Mrs. Presty say that in Miss Westerfield's presence?"

"No. Soon after you and Catherine left the room, Miss Westerfield
left it too. I daresay I am wrong, for I haven't had time to
think of it; but Mrs. Presty's manner suggested to me that she
would be glad to see the poor girl sent out of the house."

"I am going to speak to her, Randal, on that very subject. Is she
still in the drawing-room?"

"Yes."

"Did she say anything more to you?"

"I didn't give her the chance; I don't like Mrs. Presty. You look
worn and worried, Herbert. Is there anything wrong?"

"If there is, my dear fellow, you will hear of it tomorrow."

So they parted.

Comfortably established in the drawing-room, Mrs. Presty had just
opened her favorite newspaper. Her only companion was Linley's
black poodle, resting at her feet. On the opening of the door,
the dog rose--advanced to caress his master--and looked up in
Linley's face. If Mrs. Presty's attention had happened to be
turned that way, she might have seen, in the faithful creature's