And little Miss Bunting, in her capacity of buffer state between Mrs.
Lawrence and her boarders, had obeyed and said nothing more about the
matter.

"I have to go out now," continued Mrs. Lawrence, after a pause pregnant
with rebuke. "You will receive Miss Quentin on her arrival and attend to
her comfort. And put the large coal-box in her sitting-room as I
directed," she added firmly.

So it came about that when, half an hour later, a taxi-cab buzzed up to
the door of No. 24, with Diana and a large quantity of luggage on board,
the former found herself met in the hall by a cheerful little person with
pretty brown eyes and a friendly smile to whom she took an instant liking.

Miss Bunting escorted Diana up to her rooms on the second floor, while
Henri brought up the rear, staggering manfully beneath the weight of Miss
Quentin's trunk.

A cheerful fire was blazing in the grate, and that, together with the
daffodils that gleamed from a bowl on the table like a splash of gold,
gave the room a pleasant and welcoming appearance.

"But, surely," said Diana hesitatingly, "you are not Mrs. Lawrence?"

Miss Bunting laughed, outright.

"Oh, dear no," she answered. "Mrs. Lawrence is out, and she asked me to
see that you had everything you wanted. I'm the lady-help, you know."

Diana regarded her commiseratingly. She seemed such a jolly, bright