wrapped the Paisley shawl more closely round her shoulders, and cast not a glance to right or left! A blissful possibility was broached that she had changed her mind, and did not desire a visitor after all.

Wednesday and Thursday passed in increasing calm, but on Friday morning certain alarming symptoms became visible. Mrs Garnett came to breakfast with unmistakable signs of agitation upon her face. Mr Garnett was silent and distrait, hid behind his newspaper, and answered at random the remarks of his family. Late arrivals were allowed to pass without reproach, and Tim’s raids upon the marmalade received no further protest than a flickering smile.

The die was cast! The girls knew it without a word; in a stupor of misery they sat, ears cocked, hearts in their boots, waiting for a sign which should betray the truth, and decide once for all the identity of the victim.

It came at last, towards the end of the meal, in the midst of a ghastly silence.

“Darsie, darling,” said Mrs Garnett fondly, “won’t you have some more coffee?”

“Darling!” Never were Mrs Garnett’s north-country lips known to use that term except under stress of the most poignant emotion. To be “darling” one was compelled to be very ill, very sad, angelically repentant, or in an extremity of fear, and Darsie, who this morning was not afflicted in any one of these three ways, realised in a flash the awful significance of the term. She sat white and silent, too dazed for speech, and to do them justice Clemence and Lavender looked almost as perturbed as herself, relief on their own account being eclipsed for the moment by a realisation of the loss which the holiday party was about to sustain. With a sudden and uninvited humility each sister mentally acknowledged that for the general good of the family it would have been better had the choice fallen upon herself!

Darsie braced her feet against a leg of the table, and struggled with a lump in her throat. Coffee? she never wanted to drink any more coffee so long as she lived! The sight, the smell of it would be for ever associated with this ghastly moment. She turned big, woeful eyes on her mother’s face and stammered a breathless inquiry:

“Mother, you have something to say! Please say it. Don’t break it to me, please; it’s worse to wait. Say it bang out!”

“Oh, Darsie, darling; yes, darling, it is as you suppose! Aunt Maria has chosen you. She wants you to start with her on Saturday morning, but if it’s too 

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