But Thyrza dropped her hand hastily into a gray calico pocket tied round
her waist, and again held out something.

"It is only a pear-drop," she said apologetically to Netta. "It won't
hurt her."

Felicia snatched at it at once, and sucked it, still flushed with
passion. Her mother smiled faintly.

"You like sweets?" she said, childishly, to her companion; "give me one?"

Thyrza eagerly brought out a paper bag from her pocket and Netta put out
a pair of thin fingers. She and her sisters had been great consumers of
sweet stuff in the small dark Florentine shops. The shared greediness
promoted friendship; and by the time Mrs. Dixon put in a reproachful face
with a loud--"Thyrza, what _be_ you a doin'?"--Mrs. Melrose knew as much
of the Tower, the estate, the farm, and the persons connected with them,
as Thyrza's chattering tongue could tell her in the time.

There was nothing, however, very consoling in the information. When
Thyrza departed, Mrs. Melrose was left to fret and sigh much as before.
The place was odious; she could never endure it. But yet the possible
advent of "Countess Tatham" cast a faint ray on the future.

A few days later Lady Tatham appeared. Melrose had been particularly
perverse and uncommunicative on the subject. "Like her audacity!"--so
Netta had understood his muttered comment, when she took him the cards.
He admitted that the lady and he were cousins--the children of first
cousins; and that he had once seen a good deal of her. He called her "an
audacious woman"; but Mrs. Melrose noticed that he did not forbid her the