We fared worse than the servants. They at least were not constantly reminded that they owed their position to Miss Grainger’s charity.

They were more useful than we were, too. We were apprentices and our’ board and lodgings were our only payment. We must not only give me your their lessons but act as nursemaids to them; w our attic clean and be prepared to perform a might be imposed on us by Miss Emily or Miss G they saw that there were plenty.

The mistresses despised us—as did the serval children realized that they might take liberties in which they dared take in no others. Miss Emily of coming silently into a classroom—always where unruly—and standing and listening with her before she delivered a reproof in front of the eh made them more certain than ever that they could. Poor Mary suffered more from them than I wasn't meek; I had a fiery temper and I think they were in awe of me.

Sometimes I would lie in my narrow bed at an attic waiting for the ghostly touch of the ches the wind moved gently through its branches, i say to myself.

“Abandoned! This is the second life. Why is it that people abandon you? The should be reason for it. Twice in one lifetime.”

But my father would never abandon me. He back. I could not face a world without him. I had such contentment merely to be with him and, and the greatest gift to childhood—security. Not morality, but the only kind which is important to the security of being loved.

I had been a pupil teacher for barely a mont seemed more like a year—when the news came.

I was reading to my class that morning, but I w attending. It was a warm spring day. A bee was i up the window, now flying off in exasperation t fling itself against the glass in a desperate el itself. It was trapped. There was no way out; but on the other side of the room was open and creature would not go there. He continued to tic ally up and down. Caught! Like myself.

The door opened suddenly and there was Missing at me oddly. I noticed that the breeze from it sent the bee in the opposite direction. He found window and flew out.

“You are wanted in the study,” said Miss Gr My first thought was: There is news of him. I I reach the study he will be there.

I turned to the door.

“You should leave your class some work,” reproved Miss Graeme.

I told them to go on reading; then I fled past Miss Graeme, up the stairs to the study. I knocked at the door and waited for the response. Miss Emily was seated at the desk, a letter before her.

“You may sit down, Nora. I have a letter here. There has been some delay in the posts owing to the floods in Australia.” I sat, keeping my eyes on her face.

“You will have to be brave, my dear,” she went on gently.

I felt sick with apprehension. It must be very bad news since she called me ‘my dear’. It was. There could be nothing more terrible.

“The reason we have not heard from your father is that he is dead.”

I stumbled up to my attic and lay on my bed. The leaves of the’ chestnut tree lightly touched the window; the breeze made a soft moaning noise and the sunshine threw dancing patterns on the wall.

I should never see him again. There would be no fortune, no travels, no being together—only utter desolation. He was buried on the other side of the world, and all the time I had been waiting for a letter from him he had been lying in a coffin with the earth on top of him.

Even Miss Emily was sorry for me.

“Go to your room,” she had said.

“You will need to recover from the shock of this.”

I had come blindly up to my room. I had not listened to what she was saying. Words came back to me as I lay there.

“It has settled your future.” I did not care for the future; I was only concerned with the misery of the present. I kept seeing him, remembering his laughing eyes, hearing his booming voice.

“When my ship comes home …”

And the terrible truth was that his ship would never come home. It had foundered on the rocks of death.

He had written to me as he was dying. How like him! The letter had come by way of his solicitors with the news of his death. Miss Emily had withheld it for a few hours to give me, as she said, a little time to recover from the initial shock.

“Don’t grieve for me. We had a happy time together. Don’t let any sadness touch your memories of me, Nora. I’d rather you forgot me altogether than thinking of me should make you sad. It was an accident and it’s finished me, but you’re going to be all right, Nora. My good friend has promised me that. Lynx is a man of his word, and he has given me that word so that I can die happy. He is going to take care of you, Nora, and he’ll do it better than I could. When you read this I’ll be gone, but you’ll not be alone….”

The writing was scarcely legible. The last words were: “Be happy’ and they were only just decipherable. I pictured the pen falling from his hands as he wrote them. To the end all his love and concern had been for me.

I read the letter again and again. I would carry it with me always.

And I lay numbly on my bed, unable to think of what the future held, unable to think of anything but that he had gone.

Miss Emily sent for me. Miss Grainger was with her in the study and with them was a man in black with a white cravat and a very solemn expression. I thought he was my new guardian, but he could never be the man my father had described as Lynx.

“This is Nora Tamasin,” said Miss Emily.

“Nora, this is Mr. Marlin of Marlin Sons and Barlow your father’s solicitors.”

I sat down and listened without taking everything in; I was still numb with misery. But I gathered that everything had been legally arranged and I was to be given into the care of Mr. Charles Herrick, the man whom my father had appointed as my guardian.

“Mr. Herrick naturally wishes to take you into his home and you are to join him there as soon as possible. This is in Australia and your father’s last wish was that you should do this. Mr. Herrick is unable to come to England but a member of his family will come to escort you to your new home. Mr. Herrick is anxious that you should not travel alone.”

I nodded, thinking: My father would have wanted that. He must have asked the Lynx it was difficult to think of him with such a mild name as Mr. Herrick to take great care of me.

It was expected that in a few weeks’ time my guardian’s emissary would arrive in England. I should in the meantime prepare myself to depart.

Mr. Martin took his leave and Miss Emily said that everything was now most satisfactorily settled, by which I knew she meant that outstanding bills had been paid. The next few weeks I could utilize in preparation for my departure. There might be one or two things I needed to buy. I might do this-within reason—and Miss Emily would graciously allow one of the teachers to accompany me to the town and advise me on my purchases. Perhaps I would like to work at my books.

Indeed I might feel that work was the best antidote to sorrow and might wish to continue to act as a pupil teacher for which work—although this had not been mentioned before—I seemed to have an aptitude.

“No, thank you. Miss Emily,” I said.

“I will prepare myself to meet whoever is coming for me and do what shopping I consider necessary.”

Miss Emily bowed her head.

I stayed in my attic quarters. Poor Mary was envious. She only saw that a new and exciting life stretched out before me; she did not realize what grief had led me to it. I shopped. I bought the tartan cape and skirt and strong boots which I thought would be needed where I was going. I had little interest in these purchases, nor in anything. I could think of nothing but the fact that my father was dead.

And at last I was once more summoned to the study.

“You will travel in the company of Miss Herrick, who is I gather your guardian’s daughter—a lady of responsible years. You are to meet her at the Falcon Inn which is some five or six miles from the town of Canterbury. For some reason the lady is there. There is a mention of business which has to be performed. It seems a little inconvenient as I suppose you will be sailing from Gravesend or Tilbury. However, those are the instructions. At Canterbury a fly will be waiting to conduct you to the Falcon Inn. Miss Graeme will accompany you to London and see you safely on to the Canterbury train. You will be all right from there on.”

“Of course. Miss Emily.”

“After Miss Graeme has left you, you must on no account speak to strangers,” said Miss Grainger.

“I certainly should not. Miss Grainger.”

“So there is no difficulty. On Thursday morning at nine o’clock you will leave Danesworth House. The fly will take you to the station. The train leaves at nine-thirty. Cook will pack a sandwich for you. “

“I am sure there is no need for Miss Graeme to accompany me. I could easily change trains when I get to London.”

“That is quite out of the question,” said Miss Emily.

“You would have to get across London by yourself. Unthinkable! Why Canterbury should have been chosen, I can’t imagine. But that is the case; and we have been requested by your guardian through the solicitors that you should be accompanied until you are safely on the Canterbury train.

Therefore it is unthinkable that it could be otherwise. “

So Lynx’s despotic rule could touch even Miss Emily.

I packed my bags; I waited; the girls and mistresses gave roe their respectful interest. I was the sort of person to whom strange things happened. I might have enjoyed my new importance if I could have forgotten my father’s death.