any meal she may be kind enough to appear at. Let us speak of Littlestone. I gather that you have made up your mind to go telegraphing to Mrs. Morris, and find out whether we can take Sea View from—from to-morrow, I think you said."
"Yes; I don't see why we shouldn't go to-morrow," said Catherine.
Elizabeth rose.
"Then, if you will excuse me," she said, "and will make my excuses to Lucia, I will go and make up the household books. Board wages, I understand, are to begin from to-morrow. Is that your wish?"
Lucia entered at this moment.
"Oh, I am late," she said, "but I was so sleepy. Good-morning, Aunt Elizabeth; dear Aunt Cathie, do forgive me."
Elizabeth laid out a distant cheek to Lucia.
"We shall meet at lunch, no doubt," she said, "unless you are going to some fine house in the neighbourhood. Could you make it convenient to let me have a quiet hour after your breakfast, Lucia, without piano-playing? I have a great deal to do this morning. No doubt Catherine will tell you the plans she has made."
Elizabeth tottered out of the room, closing the door with extreme care, as if it was the entrance to a sick-room.
"Cross as two sticks," observed Aunt Cathie. "Poor old Elizabeth! She'll be better in a few days if we can get Sea View."
Lucia had half poured out her cup of tea, but stopped.
"Is that the plan?" she asked.
"Yes. We'll go to-morrow, if we can get it. I'm sure we can. Mrs. Morris said it was unlet throughout August. Why broil here? 'Tisn't as if it was in Australia."
Aunt Cathie meant a deep significance in that speech—a significance that she could not have expressed in direct words. She was alluding to that which she dared not openly allude to. But whether Lucia saw the allusion or not, she had no idea, for she gave no outward sign.
"Then we stop there till the middle of September, instead of the end?" she asked.
"Hope so. Why?"
"Only that I must write to Maud, and say that she must come early in September, instead of in the middle. I have no doubt she will be able to manage it."
