must be costing her employer in milk, eggs, butter, cream and chickens,
when all such foods were still so frightfully, abominably dear. But they
were forced down her throat by Helena and the housekeeper; while Lord
Buntingford enquired after her every morning, and sent her a reckless
supply of illustrated papers and novels. To see her now in the library or
on the lawn again, with her white shawl round her, and the usual
needlework on her knee, was a pleasant sight to everybody in the house.

The little lady had not only won this place for herself by the sweet and
selfless gift which was her natural endowment; she was becoming the
practical helper of everybody, of Mrs. Mawson in the house, of old Fenn
in the garden, even of Buntingford himself, who was gradually falling
into the habit of letting her copy important letters for him, and keep
some order in the library. She was not in the least clever or
accomplished; but her small fingers seemed to have magic in them; and her
good will was inexhaustible.

Helena had grown amazingly fond of her. She appealed to something
maternal and protecting in the girl's strong nature. Since her mother's
death, there had been a big streak of loneliness in Helena's heart,
though she would have suffered tortures rather than confess it; and
little Lucy Friend's companionship filled a void. She must needs respect
Lucy's conscience, Lucy's instincts had more than once shamed her own.

"What are you going to wear to-night?" said Mrs. Friend, softly smoothing
back the brown hair from the girl's hot brow.

"Pale green and apple-blossom."

Lucy Friend smiled, as though already she had a vision of the