seemed to Leonora to tremble at the whisper of an enigmatic message from
Uncle Meshach. The foreboding caused by the letter mingled with the
menace of approaching age and with the sadness of the early autumn, and
confirmed her mood.

Millicent, her youngest, ran impulsively to her in the garden. Millicent
was eighteen, and the days when she went to school and wore her hair in
a long plait were still quite fresh in the girl's mind. For this reason
she was often inordinately and aggressively adult.

'Mamma! I'm going to have my tea first thing. The Burgesses have asked
me to play tennis. I needn't wait, need I? It gets dark so soon.' As
Millicent stood there, ardently persuasive, she forgot that adult
persons do not stand on one leg or put their fingers in their mouths.

Leonora looked fondly at the sprightly girl, vain, self-conscious, and
blonde and pretty as a doll in her white dress. She recognised all
Millicent's faults and shortcomings, and yet was overcome by the charm
of her presence.

'No, Milly, you must wait.' Throned on the rustic seat, inscrutable and
tyrannous Leonora, a wistful, wayward atom in the universe, laid her
command upon the other wayward atom; and she thought how strange it was
that this should be.

'But, Ma----'

'Father specially said you must be in for tea. You know you have far too
much freedom. What have you been doing all the afternoon?'