They leave the room together. In the hall the housekeeper, coming forward, says respectfully:
"Shall I take Miss Chesney to her room, my lady?"
"No, Matthews," says Lady Chetwoode, graciously; "it will give me pleasure to take her there myself."
By which speech all the servants are at once made aware that Miss Chesney is already in high favor with "my lady," who never, except on very rare occasions, takes the trouble to see personally after her visitors' comfort.
* * * * * * *
When Lilian has been ten minutes in her room Mrs. Tipping arrives, and is shown up-stairs, where she finds her small mistress evidently in the last stage of despondency. These ten lonely minutes have been fatal to her new-born hopes, and have reduced her once more to the melancholy frame of mind in which she left her home in the morning. All this the faithful Tipping sees at a glance, and instantly essays to cheer her.
Silently and with careful fingers she first removes her hat, then her jacket, then she induces her to stand up, and, taking off her dress, throws round her a white wrapper taken from a trunk, and prepares to brush the silky yellow hair that for eighteen years has been her own to dress and tend and admire.
"Eh, Miss Lilian, child, but it's a lovely place!" she says, presently, this speech being intended as a part of the cheering process.
"It seems a fine place," says the "child," indifferently.
"Fine it is indeed. Grander even than the Park, I'm thinking."