wasn't England--that was indisputable--she found herself unreasonably
irritated by her friend's tone.

"Not when yon get there," she replied sharply.

Miss Pringle evidently deemed it best to change the subject. "Why don't
you draw the blinds?" she asked after a moment.

"It is horrid, isn't it? But somehow I thought I ought to wait till they
came back from the funeral. But just see the sunlight; it must be
beautiful out of doors. Why don't we walk about in the garden? Do you
care for a wrap? I'll send Kate to fetch you something, if you do."

Miss Pringle having decided that her coat was sufficiently warm if they
did not sit anywhere too long and just walked in the paths where it was
sure not to be damp, they went out of the gloomy drawing-room into the
bright afternoon sunshine.

"Don't you love a garden when things are just beginning to show their
heads? I sometimes think that spring is the most beautiful of all the
seasons. It's like watching the birth of a new world. I think the most
human thing about poor Miss Wickham was her fondness for flowers. She
always said she hoped she'd never die in winter."

To Miss Pringle, the note of regret which crept now and again into
Nora's voice when she spoke of her late employer was a continual source
of bewilderment. Here was a woman who she knew had a quick temper and a
passionate nature speaking as if she actually sorrowed for the tyrant
who had so frequently made her life unbearable. She was sure that she
couldn't have felt more grieved if Providence had seen fit to remove the