Then Miss Farrel spoke.  There was a weary astonishment and amusement in her tone, but nothing whatever disturbed or harsh.  “Oh, is it you, Hannah?” she said.

Hannah murmured something unintelligible.

Miss Farrel went on, sweetly:  “So you thought you would try on my lace gown, Hannah?” she said.  “It fits you very well.  I see your hands are clean.  I am glad of that.  Now please take it off and put on your own dress.”

Hannah stood up.  She was abject.

“There is nothing for you to be afraid of,” said Miss Farrel.  “Only take off the gown and put on your own, or I am afraid Miss Hart—­”

Miss Hart’s name acted like a terrible stimulus.  Hannah unfastened the lace gown with fingers trembling with haste.  She stepped out of the shimmering circle which it made; she was in her own costume in an incredibly short space of time, and the lace gown was in its accustomed place in the closet.  Then suddenly Miss Hart opened the door.

“I thought I saw a light,” said she.  She looked from one to the other.  “It is after eleven o’clock,” she said, further.

“Yes,” said Miss Farrel, sweetly.  “I have been working.  I had to look over some exercises.  I think I am not quite well.  Have you any digitalis in the house, Miss Hart?  Hannah here does not know.  I was sorry to disturb her, and she does not know.  I have an irritable heart, and digitalis helps it.”

“No, I have not got any digitalis,” replied Miss Hart, shortly.  She gave the hard sound to the g, and she looked suspiciously at both women.  However, Miss Farrel was undoubtedly pale, and Miss Hart’s face relaxed.

“Go back to your room,” she said to Hannah.  “You won’t be fit for a thing to-morrow.”  Then she said to Miss Farrel:  “I don’t know what you mean by digitalis.  I haven’t got any, but I’ll mix you up some hot essence of peppermint, and that’s the best thing I know of for anything.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Farrel.  She had sank into a chair, and had her hand over her heart.

“I’ll have it here in a minute,” said Miss Hart.  She went out, and Hannah followed her, but not before she and Miss Eliza Farrel had exchanged looks which meant that each had a secret of the other to keep as a precious stolen jewel.

Chapter VI

The next morning Henry was very quiet at the breakfast-table.  He said good-morning to Horace in almost a surly manner, and Sylvia glanced from one to the other of the two men.  After Horace had gone to school she went out in the front yard to interview Henry, who was pottering about the shrubs which grew on either side of the gravel walk.

“What on earth ailed you and Mr. Allen this morning?” she began, abruptly.

Henry continued digging around the roots of a peony.  “I don’t know as anything ailed us.  I don’t know what you are driving at,” he replied, lying unhesitatingly.