Discontent is the want of self-reliance; it is infirmity of will.
-Emerson.

MRS. TRACY went to her room upon her return and had a cup of tea; then Olive saw to her dismay that she was bent on going to the cathedral service at five. She tried in vain to dissuade her, but finding that quite impossible, she asked Margot to go with her; and came in to see Osmond, saying desperately: "I really believe mother does her best to kill herself on such days as these! It isn't fair on us, but she won't hear a word."

"Are you coming to stay?" said Osmond with a wistful look in his eyes, that Olive did not see. "I haven't seen any of you since the morning. Elsie is quite excited at Vinny's arrival, so she has made herself scarce."

Olive looked at her watch.

"I am thinking that I will just run over, and see Lady Crofton. I shall have time if I go at once. Vinny will not be here till half past six."

"Cut along, then, and find out all you can about his Grace. He has never written to me yet!'

Osmond's voice was cheery, but when Olive had disappeared, he gave a little sigh. He had been having one of his bad days, when his pain was severe; and a headache in addition prevented him from forgetting his loneliness in reading.

Never complaining, the girls did not realise how much their society was appreciated by him; and though there were few days that did not see one of them in the schoolroom, there were many long, lonely hours to be got through by the invalid. He lay now watching Olive running down the garden, and through the meadows to the old stone bridge. And as he watched her, he said to himself with a little smile :

"She is never too tired or too busy to go to the Croftons."

Olive slackened her pace when she reached the high road; five minutes walk brought her to the heavy iron gates, and the long beech avenue that led up to Crofton Court. She knew every inch of the way, and when she came to the old Tudor mansion, she walked in at the front entrance through the open glass doors that were never locked, as if she were one of the family. At the further end of the hall she met the butler.

"Is Lady Crofton in the drawing-room, Triggs?' "Yes, miss, she was hoping to see you to tea." Olive sped up a low flight of broad stairs, and pushed open a door directly opposite her. The air as she entered, seemed full of the scent of hot-house flowers. Two large tubs of pink and white azalias stood in a deep bay window: genistas, ferns, and arum lilies were grouped together in another recess, and flowers of all varieties and hue were scattered over the room. Lady Crofton, a tall, thin, and rather stately woman, sat in an easy chair by her afternoon tea table, and now looked up with a smile of welcome at Olive.

"My dear, I had almost given you up."

Olive bent down her face to be kissed.

"Yes," she said brightly; " and I almost sent a note to say I couldn't come. I have been to the cemetery with mother this afternoon, and Vinny is coming to us to-day; so there has been a lot to do."

"One of your mother's anniversaries ? "

"Yes, my father's."

Lady Crofton checked the slight smile that had come to her lips.

Ah, my dear Olive; there never was such a devoted couple as your parents! I used to wonder whether one could ever survive the other. Now sit down, I thought you would like my news from the Cape."

"Yes, indeed, I should," said Olive frankly, though a faint blush rose to her cheeks, which Lady Crofton's keen eyes detected at once with some amusement.

"It is good news. Duke has met Mark, and he says he is steadying down again. It is such a relief to my mind. There seems to be rather a nice English family living near Mark, and Duke is quite taken with them. He says they are such a boon to Mark. They come from Northumberland. Corderoy is the name, but I hardly think they are a county family. Still, I have such a horror at colonials that I feel thankful Mark has such neighbours. I always think a family life so good for a young man. And Duke says the girls are well educated and perfect ladies. I always consider that Duke has fastidious tastes, so I am quite satisfied if he is. I will read you his letter. Dear me, it is getting quite dusk already. Will you read it for me?"

Olive gladly assented. She took herself to task afterwards for the foolish pleasure she felt in handling the thin foreign sheet of paper with the clear open

handwriting that was so familiar to her. It was a pleasant, chatty letter, and towards the end he wrote:

I am full of work. The country seems in a most unsettled state, and people wonder out here if England has at all grasped the true state of things. I should not be a bit surprised if we have war before the year is out. Optimists have great hopes of the coming conference at Bloemfontein, but wiseacres here shake their heads and say Kruger means war. This is the first letter I have written since we landed. If you see any of the Tracys, you might let Osmond hear of my whereabouts. I shall write to him by the next mail.

"Osmond occupies a large place in his affections," said Lady Crofton smiling; "whenever he was long away from us it was always Osmond I found had been the attraction!"

"He was very good to him," said Olive handing back the letter, and trying to speak indifferently. "I am sure Osmond misses him dreadfully since he has gone." "And no one else?”

Olive's head was held up proudly.

“I think we all miss him, Lady Crofton, but Osmond, of course, most of all."

Lady Crofton looked at the girl with a little shake of the head. Then she said, meditatively: "I don't want them both to marry out at the Cape. Duke seems so unusually taken with the Misses Corderoys' attractions that I wonder whether it is as much on his own account as on Mark's that he is so pleased to have them as neighbours. I should like Mark to marry, it will steady him; but there is plenty of time for Duke. I should like him to choose a wife nearer home."

"How is Sir Marmaduke? " asked Olive.

"A little better to-day. You must see him before you go. The doctor told me this morning that he may live on for years. And I really think his speech is improving. I can understand every word he says."

They chatted on, and once off rather critical ground, Olive recovered her spirits. She taught Lady Crofton a new stitch in knitting, read her an article from The Times, and then went into an adjoining room to see Sir Marmaduke. He looked very feeble in his wheel-chair, but gave Olive a warm welcome and made her sit down and read his son's letter again to him. He had a keen sense of humour, and was not unlike his eldest son in appearance. He still preserved his uprightness of carriage, and it was only when he spoke that people recognised that he had had a stroke of paralysis.

"So we have sent the eldest son after the prodigal," he said with twinkling eyes. "It is a new version of the old story, but I would rather Mark's brother did the clothing and feeding out there, than that the father should have to do it at home."

"I don't think Mark has come to that," said Olive. "He is a thorough bad lot, that is my experience of him, and I know him rather intimately."

"I expect he will do better now that Duke is within reach of him."

The old man shook his head.

"He will never do well. It was born in him. How is your young scapegrace?"

"Oh, Eddie is very well," said Olive, who always tried to hide her brother's delinquencies from all their friends.

"An idle young dog, Holmes calls him.

Holmes was