Gillian would not pursue the subject.  Perhaps she was a little disingenuous with her conscience, for she wanted to carry off the impression that Miss Vincent had pronounced concealment from her aunts to be justifiable; and she knew at the bottom of her heart that her governess would condemn a habit of secret intimacy with any one being carried on without the knowledge of her hostess and guardian for the time being,—–­above all when it was only a matter, of waiting.

It is a fine thing for self-satisfaction to get an opinion without telling the whole of the facts of the case, and Gillian went home in high spirits, considerably encumbered with parcels, and surprising Mrs. Mount by insisting that two separate packages should be made of the books.

Kalliope and Alexis were both awaiting her at the station, their gratitude unbounded, and finding useful vent by the latter fetching a cab and handing in the goods.

It was worth something to see how happy the brother and sister looked, as they went off in the gaslight, the one with the big brown paper parcel, the other with the basket of fruit and flowers; and Gillian’s explanation to Mrs. Mount that they were old friends of her soldiering days was quite satisfactory.

There was a grand unpacking.  Aunt Ada was pleased with the late roses, and Aunt Jane that there had been a recollection of Lilian Giles, to whom she had thought her niece far too indifferent.  Valetta fondled the flowers, and was gratified to hear of the ardent affection of the Begum and the health of Rigdum, though Gillian was forced to confess that she had not transferred to him the kiss that she had been commissioned to convey.  Nobody was disappointed except Fergus, who could not but vituperate the housemaids for the destruction of his new patent guillotine for mice, which was to have been introduced to Clement Varley.  To be sure it would hardly ever act, and had never cut off the head of anything save a dandelion, but that was a trifling consideration.

A letter from Mysie was awaiting Gillian, not lengthy, for there was a long interval between Mysie’s brains and her pen, and saying nothing about the New Zealand report.  The selection of lace was much approved, and the next day there was to be an expedition to endeavour to get the veil matched as nearly as possible.  The only dangerous moment was at breakfast the next day, when Miss Mohun said—–­

’Fanny was delighted with Silverfold.  Macrae seems to have been the pink of politeness to her.’

‘She must come when the house is alive again,’ said Gillian.  ’What would she think of it then!’

‘Oh, that would be perfectly delicious,’ cried Valetta.  ’She would see Begum and Rigdum—–­’

‘And I could show her how to work the lawn cutter,’ added Fergus.

‘By the bye,’ said Aunt Jane, ‘whom have you been lending books to?’

‘Oh, to the Whites,’ said Gillian, colouring, as she felt more than she could wish.  ’There were some old school-books that I thought would be useful to them, and I was sure mamma would like them to have some flowers and fruit.’