gilt-framed picture of the Judge, until a plump little robin of a woman,
in a black dress with a dash of red at the throat, came trotting out to
meet me.

That was Aunt; in spite of my fright and self-consciousness I wanted to
laugh to see her bright eyes look at me in amazement that grew almost to
panic. She didn't know me; the servant could not have caught my name.

"Did you--wish to see me?" she finally managed to say.

"I'm Helen Winship--" I faltered. I felt as if I had done something very
wrong.

"Nelly!" she cried, clutching my hands and almost lifting herself on
tiptoe, as she blinked into my eyes in the uncertain light of the outer
hall. "This isn't--can't be--not _our_ Helen Winship--oh, it's some
message from her--some--"

Her voice died away in incoherent mutterings. She drew me into a big hall
like a sitting room behind the small parlour.

"Come into the light, child, whoever you are. I want to look at you," she
said.

An open fire was burning in the grate, and in the room were Milly and
Ethel and white-haired Miss Marcia and a tall, blonde young man.

All rose to their feet, then stopped. There was an awkward pause, the
answering thrill of tense amazement shot from mind to mind like lightning.
They stood as if frozen, gazing. The room was for a moment so still that I