"Babette, tell Ledru to have dinner at seven. I think your master and his daughter will be here to-night."
"Mon Dieu, Mademoiselle! The young lady from England?"
"Yes; and see that there are fires in all the rooms upstairs."
"Yes, Miss Grace."
"Is Miss Eeny still in the parlour?"
"Yes, Miss Grace."
Miss Grace walked out of the dining-room, along a carved and pictured corridor, up a broad flight of shining oaken stairs, and tapped at the first door.
"Come in, Grace," called a pleasant voice, and Grace went in.
It was a much more elegant apartment than the dining-room, with flowers, and books, and birds, and pictures, and an open piano with music scattered about.
Half buried in a great carved and gilded chair, lay the only occupant of the room—a youthful angel of fifteen, fragile in form, fair and delicate of face, with light hair and blue eyes. A novel lying open in her lap showed what her occupation had been.