Miss Merivale's Mistake

erivale reached Cadogan Mansions. She told the cabman to w

dogskin gloves. Her dress was shabby too, and the little black straw hat had seen long service; but Mi

to see. From Pauline's words the day before, she had p

neat front door with the electric bell. She had not long to wait before her ring was answered by Mrs. Richard

rry to miss you yesterday, but I had to go to a committee meeting. I have more work on my hands just now than I ca

before with her hair flying, was considerably taken aback by her extremely "grown-u

anced as she spoke at a tiny clock on the writing-table. "Then after lunch I must rush off to Southwark. I shall find a big mothers' meeting waiting for me. The women bring their

id Miss Merivale, trying to repress a laugh as she looked at Clare'

ead very busy lives, Miss Merivale. I am rushing all day from one thing t

than good; but she was too eager to speak of Rhoda Sampson to think much of anything else. "You have

ly wanted her this afternoon, and she has asked for a holiday. Her little cousin is ill, and she wa

hat Miss Sampson? Then she is not coming back to-day? I wante

l be glad to get her some work; for after next week I shall not want her, though I have not told her so

n't you, my dear?" asked Miss Merivale mechanically

shall like that better than this. One gets tired of a flat after a time. But here

closing eagerly on the slip of paper Clare gave her.

a good little thing. Pauline does not like her, but Pauline is too critical sometimes. I

had done in her one visit to it with Tom, the year before, to see a loan collection of pictures. Street after street of blank, drab-faced houses-dull, unsmiling houses! She thought of children growing up there, wan and joyless, like plants kept out of the sun. And then two happy

rd, "Apartments to Let," over the hall door. A little servant with a dirty apron and a merry face op

, and led the way into the front sitting-room. The boys ran upstairs. Miss Merivale heard them shoutin

n jug filled with fresh daffodils on the centre table. On the side table near Miss Merivale there was a pile of books. She looked at the titles as she waited for a step on the stairs-The Civil Se

r was thickly streaked with grey. Miss Merivale found herself unable to begin at once to make the inquiries she had come to make, and fell back on the programmes she wanted typewritten. Mrs. M'Alis

end Rhoda," she said in her anxious voice. "I

Australia, have you not?"

beneath Miss Merivale's quiet manner. And the kind voice and kind, gentle face

home. My brothers offered to help me with the boys. Rhoda has taken the youngest do

aid of wearying her visitor. She little knew

ou," Miss Merivale said, after a moment'

her went off after cattle. And when he died we brought her home for good. I haven't a girl of my own, but I've never known what it is to miss one. Rhoda's no kith or kin to us, but she has been a daughter to me, all

rest she saw in Miss Merivale's face; but now she stopped short, her pale face flush

own?" asked Miss Merivale, after a pause, in

d he was thankful when we promised to keep her. He was a queer, silent sort of man. We never knew much about him, except that he had li

's parentage. James Sampson had not perished in the bush, but had hidden himself in that lonely spot up among the hills, where either no news of the will had reached him, or

r had said that they were living fifty miles from a town. How easily it might have happe

e one day in the following week, so that she might talk over with her the details of some other work

seemed equally impossible. If Rhoda was Lydia's child, her own niece, her successor to Woodcote, how could she leave her unacknowledged? How could she be silent about the disco

ut into the world to fight for his living. How could she let him go? If she was silent, no one would be likely to guess that Rhoda was Lydia's child. She was not mentioned by name i

of hating Lydia's little girl. Tears burst from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She did not think of wiping them