shone again with a light of agitated joy, and suddenly Hylda leaned over
and kissed her cheek.

"Smell the coffee," she said with assumed gaiety. "Doesn't fair-and-
sixty want her breakfast? Sunrise is a splendid tonic." She laughed
feverishly.

"My darling, I hadn't seen the sun rise in thirty years, not since the
night I first met Windlehurst at a Foreign Office ball."

"You have always been great friends?" Hylda stole a look at her.

"That's the queer part of it; I was so stupid, and he so clever. But
Windlehurst has a way of letting himself down to your level. He always
called me Betty after my boy died, just as if I was his equal. La, la,
but I was proud when he first called me that--the Prime Minister of
England. I'm going to watch the sun rise again to-morrow, my darling. I
didn't know it was so beautiful, and gave one such an appetite." She
broke a piece of bread, and, not waiting to butter it, almost stuffed it
into her mouth.

Hylda leaned over and pressed her arm. "What a good mother Betty it is!"
she said tenderly.

Presently they were startled by the shrill screaming of a steamer
whistle, followed by the churning of the paddles, as she drove past and
drew to the bank near them.

"It is a steamer from Cairo, with letters, no doubt," said Hylda; and the
Duchess nodded assent, and covertly noted her look, for she knew that no