hurrying toward her. She was dressed plainly in black, but with a rich plainness that could not have escaped the youngest of womankind. Opposite Caroline she paused, her hand on her heart.
"John! Oh, John! This—this is a child!"
"Yes, Miss; sure it is," said the gardener politely.
"But how did she get here? Surely no children come here?" Her hands were trembling.
"Yes, Miss, many of 'em—sure they do," he said pleasantly, with a good Irish smile.
But it was plain that his good-nature did not please the handsome lady. She bit her lip angrily.
"You know very well, John, that you are not to talk to me in that idiotic way," she said decidedly. "You know that there is no necessity for it as well as I do."
"All right, Miss," he replied, soothingly.
"And you are lying when you say that children come here," she went on, controlling herself with a great effort, "for they do not."
The gardener scratched his head doubtfully
