"An' if she's fool enough. Why, he isn't much more than half her years
and she with a grown up daughter too."

"Aye. May be the gal 'ud be more a match for Dobson than her mother."

"Don't you let my mistress hear you say that. Why she's that jealous of
Lavinia she could bite the girl's head off. My! Well I never!"

Hannah started visibly and fixed her eyes on the entrance.

"What's the matter, wench?" growled the man.

"I don't believe in ghosts," returned the girl, paling a little and her
hands trembling in a fashion which rather belied her words, "or I'd say
as I'd just seen Miss Lavinia's sperrit look in at the door. If it isn't
her ghost it's her double."

"Why don't you run outside and settle your mind?"

"'Cause it's impossible it could be her. The girl's at boarding school."

"What's that got to do with it? You go and see."

Hannah hesitated, but at last plucked up her courage and went to the
door. She saw close to the wall some few yards away a somewhat
draggle-tail figure in cloak and hood. Within the hood was Lavinia's
face, though one would hardly recognise it as hers, so white, so drawn,
were the cheeks.

"Saints alive, surely it isn't you, Miss Lavvy?" cried Hannah, clasping