Bessie, happy in her superior position, looked about her with a satisfied air.  She sat with Mrs. Ormonde on the fore-seat; presently she leaned aside to look westward, and informed Thyrza that the promontory visible before them was Beachy Head.  Thyrza had no response to utter.

The carriage turned inland again.  Thyrza lost sight of the sea.  As if she cared to look at nothing else, her eyes fell.

When they arrived at The Chestnuts, Mrs. Ormonde led her companions to an upper room, where Mrs. Mapper sat talking with two or three children.

‘I think Bessie can have her old bed, can’t she?’ she said, after introducing Thyrza.  ’I wonder whether she knows any of our children now?  I dare say Miss Trent would like to rest a little.’

A few words were spoken to the matron apart, and Mrs. Ormonde withdrew.  Half an hour later, Thyrza, after seeing the children and all that portion of the house which was theirs, was led by Mrs. Mapper to the drawing-room.  The lady of the house was there alone; she invited her guest to sit down, and began to talk.

’Are you obliged to be home to-night?  Couldn’t you stay with us till to-morrow?’

Thyrza checked a movement.

‘I promised Mr. Grail to be back before dark,’ she said.

’Oh, but that will scarcely leave you any time at all.  Is there any other need for you to return to-day?  Suppose I telegraphed to say that I was keeping you—­wouldn’t Mr. Grail forgive me?’

’I think I might stay, if I could be back to-morrow by tea-time.  I must go to work on Monday morning.’

Mrs. Ormonde sighed involuntarily.  That work, that work:  the consumer of all youth and joy!

‘Unfortunately there’s no train to-morrow that would help us.’

Thyrza longed to stay; the other could read her face well enough.

‘There’s an early train on Monday morning,’ she continued doubtfully.  ‘Do you live with parents?’

’Oh, no, ma’am.  My parents died a long time ago.  I live with my sister.  We two have a room to ourselves; it’s in the same house where Mr. Grail lives:  that’s how I got to know him.’

‘And is your sister older than yourself?’

’Yes, ma’am; four years older.  Her name’s Lydia.  We’ve always kept together.  When I’m married, she’s coming to live with us.’

Mrs. Ormonde listened with ever deepening interest.  She formed a picture of that elder sister.  The words ’We’ve always kept together,’ touched her inexpressibly; they bore so beautiful a meaning on Thyrza’s lips.

’And would your sister Lydia scold me very much if I made you lose your Monday morning’s work?’ she asked, smiling.

’Oh, it’s always the other way, ma’am.  Lyddy’s always glad when I get a holiday.  But I never like her to have to go to work alone.’

’Well now, I shall telegraph to Lyddy, and then tomorrow I shall write a letter to her and beg her to forgive me.  If I do so, do you think you could stay?’