fancies," replied Bessie despondently.

"Then write--write at once, and telegraph. Do both. There is Smith's
bookstall. They will let you have a sheet of paper, and I always carry
stamps." Miss Buff was prompt in action. Six lines were written for the
post and one line for the telegraph, and both were despatched in ten
minutes or less. "Now all is done that can be done to remedy yesterday
and ensure to-morrow: some of them are certain to appear in the morning.
Make your mind easy. Come back to our seat and tell me all about
yourself."

Bessie's cheerfulness revived under the brisk influence of her friend,
and she was ready to give an epitome of her annals, or a forecast of her
hopes, or (which she much preferred) to hear the chronicles of
Beechhurst. Miss Buff was the best authority for the village politics
that she could have fallen in with. She knew everything that went on in
the parish--not quite accurately perhaps, but accurately enough for
purposes of popular information and gossip.

"Well, my dear, Miss Thusy O'Flynn is gone, for one good thing," she
began with a _verve_ that promised thoroughness. "And we are to have a
new organ in the church, for another: it has been long enough talked
about. Old Phipps set his face dead against it until we got the money in
hand; we have got it, but not until we are all at daggers drawn. He told
Lady Latimer that we ought to keep our liberal imaginations in check by
a system of cash payments."

"Our friend has a disagreeable trick of being right," said Bessie
laughing.