"What is it now, Evelyn?" asked her cousin.

"Why, your mother is so-I suppose I ought not to say it-your mother-I-- There! I must not say that either. Your mother--"

"Oh, for goodness' sake speak out!" said Audrey. "What has poor, dear mother done?"

"She is sending Jasper away; she is-she is. Oh, can I bear it? Don't you think it is awful of her?"

"I am sorry for you," said Audrey.

"Jasper would be so useful," continued Evelyn. "She is such a splendid actress; she could help me tremendously. I do wish she could stay even till to-morrow. Cannot you ask Aunt Frances-cannot you, Audrey? I wish you would."

"I must not, Evelyn; mother cannot brook interference. She would not dream of altering her plans just for a play.-Well," she added, looking round at the rest of her guests, "I think we have arranged everything now; we must meet here not later than three o'clock for rehearsal. Who would like to go out?" she added. "The morning is lovely."

The boys and girls picked up hats and cloaks and ran out immediately into the grounds. Evelyn took the first covering she could find, and joined the others.

"They ought to consult me more," she said to herself. "I see there is no help for it; I must live here for a bit and put Audrey down-that at least is due to me. But when next there are people here I shall be arranging the charades, and I shall invite them to go out into the grounds. It is a great bother about Jasper; but there! she must bear it, poor dear. She will be all right when I tell her that I will get her back when the Castle belongs to me."

Meanwhile Arthur, remembering his promise to Sylvia, ran away from where the others were standing. The boy ran fast, hoping to see Sylvia. He had taken a great fancy to her bright, dark eyes and her vivacious ways.

"She promised to meet me," he said to himself. "She is certain to keep her word."

By and by he uttered a loud "Hullo!" and a slim young figure, in a shabby crimson cloak, turned and came towards him.

"Oh, it is you, Arthur!" said Sylvia. "Well, and how are they all?"

"Quite well," replied the boy. "We are going to have charades to-night, and I am to be the doctor in one. It is rather a difficult part, and I hope I shall do it right. I never played in a charade before. That little monkey Evelyn is to be the patient. I do hope she will behave properly and not spoil everything. She is such an extraordinary child!

And of course she ought to have had quite one of the most unimportant parts, but she would not hear of it. I wish you were going to play in the charade, Sylvia."

"I have often played in charades," said Sylvia, with a quick sigh.

"Have you? How strange! You seem to have done everything."

"I have done most things that girls of my age have done."

Arthur looked at her with curiosity. There was-he could not help noticing it, and he blushed very vividly as he did see-a very roughly executed patch on the side of her shoe. On the other shoe, too, the toes were worn white. They were shabby shoes, although the little feet they encased were neat enough, with high insteps and narrow, tapering toes.

Sylvia knew quite well what was pa.s.sing in Arthur's mind. After a moment she spoke.

"You wonder why I look poor," she said. "Sometimes, Arthur, appearances deceive. I am not poor. It is my pleasure to wear very simple clothes, and to eat very plain food, and--"

"Not pleasure!" said Arthur. "You don't look as if it were your pleasure. Why, Sylvia, I do believe you are hungry now!"

Poor Sylvia was groaning inwardly, so keen was her hunger.

"And I am as peckish as I can be," said the boy, a rapid thought flashing through his mind. "The village is only a quarter of a mile from here, and I know there are tuck-shops. Why should we not go and have a lark all by ourselves? Who's to know, and who's to care? Will you come, Sylvia?"

"No, I cannot," replied Sylvia; "it is impossible. Thank you very much indeed, Arthur. I am so glad to have seen you! I must go home, however, in a minute or two. I was out all day yesterday, and there is a great deal to be done."

"But may I not come with you? Cannot I help you?"

"No, thank you; indeed I could not possibly have you. It is very good of you to offer, but I cannot have you, and I must not tell you why."

"You do look so sad! Are you sure you cannot join the charades to-night?"

"Sure-certain," said Sylvia, with a little gasp. "And I am not sad," she added; "there never was any one more merry. Listen to me now; I am going to laugh the echoes up."

They were standing where a defile of rocks stretched away to their left.

The stream ran straight between the narrow opening. The girl slightly changed her position, raised her hand, and called out a clear "Hullo!"

It was echoed back from many points, growing fainter and fainter as it died away.

"And now you say I am not merry!" she exclaimed. "Listen."

She laughed a ringing laugh. There never was anything more musical than the way that laughter was taken up, as if there were a thousand sprites laughing too. Sylvia turned her white face and looked full at Arthur.

"Oh, I am such a merry girl!" she said, "and such a glad one! and such a thankful one! And I am rich-not poor-but I like simple things. Good-by, Arthur, for the present."

"I will come and see you again. You are quite wonderful!" he said. "I wish mother knew you. And I wish my sister Moss were here; I wish she knew you."

"Moss! What a curious name!" said Sylvia.

"We have always called her that. She is just like moss, so soft and yet so springy; so comfortable, and yet you dare not take too much liberty with her. She is fragile, too, and mother had to take great care of her.

I should like you to see her; she would--"

"What would she do?" asked Sylvia.

"She would understand you; she would draw part at least of the trouble away."

"Oh! don't, Arthur-don't, don't read me like that," said the girl.

The tears just dimmed her eyes. She dashed them away, laughed again merrily, and the next moment had turned the corner and was lost to view.

CHAPTER XI.-"I CANNOT ALTER MY PLANS."

Immediately after lunch Lady Frances beckoned Evelyn to her side.

"Go up-stairs and ask Jasper to dress you," she said. "The carriage will be round in a few minutes."

Evelyn wanted to expostulate. She looked full at Audrey. Surely Audrey would protect her from the terrible infliction of a long drive alone with Lady Frances! Audrey did catch Evelyn's beseeching glance; she took a step forward.

"Do you particularly want Evelyn this afternoon, mother?" she asked.

"Yes, dear; if I did not want her I should not ask her to come with me."

Lady Frances's words were very impressive; Audrey stood silent.