Mistress of Brown Furrows by Susan Barrie

in a guilty act, and yet she knew that was absurd. “I—nothing,” she concluded confusedly.
    He stood aside to allow her to pass. She was clutching the white robe close about her, and her hair was a dim, pale fire in the corridor.
    “Sure?” he asked.
    “Quite sure,’ she said.
    He smiled suddenly, the old, kindly smile she remembered.
    “Goodnight, child! ”
    “Goodnight, Timothy! ’ she replied, and slid past him into her bedroom and closed the door rather unceremoniously. And afterwards she stood leaning up against it and feeling her cheeks so hot this time that they seemed to scorch her fingers when she touched them.
    C H A P T E R TEN
    IT was Agatha who awakened her next morning with her early tea, and who told her, when she drew back the curtains, that it was a brilliant morning, and going to be a wonderful day.
    Certainly the sunlight was flooding the room and streamed across the bed where Carol was sleepily trying to recall where she was, and exactly what it was that had happened to her on the previous day.
    “We used to call it Queen’ s weather when I was a young girl,” Agatha added conversationally. “Now that the master has brought home a bride I think we ought to call it bride’s weather! ”
    She smiled across at Carol, who sat up abruptly in the huge bed. So that was it! She was a married woman! She was no longer Carol Inglis! She was Carol Carrington!
    Agatha started to pour out her tea from the squat little silver tea-pot which looked so attractive sitting amongst the flowery-patterned china on the pastel colored tray. If the old servant was aware that only one side of the bed had been slept in, and that her ‘Master Timothy’ had occupied his bed in the adjoining room—separated by a bathroom—she was the last person in the world to disclose such a secret, or even to marvel at it very greatly in her own heart. People’s affairs were their own, or so she always said, and she behaved in accordance with these chosen principles of her own.
    Carol caught sight of the little clock on the mantelpiece, and she saw that it was close upon half-past eight. She felt slightly shocked, for breakfast in this well-run household was almost bound to be early, and it would look very bad if she was late for it on her very first day. Or so she thought naively, entirely overlooking the fact that as mistress of the place she now had the power to change even the hours of meals if she so desired.
    She sprang hastily out of bed, and Agatha handed her her dressing-gown. She explained that she didn’t want to be late for breakfast, but Agatha merely smiled.
    “Don’ t tell me I’ m late for it already! ” the girl exclaimed, in such horrified accents that Agatha shook her head soothingly.
    “No, no! Nobody expected you to be down so early,” she said. “The master and Meg went for a ride almost as soon as it was light, and afterwards they had their breakfast together in the small parlor. Miss Meg has gone off now on some errand of her own, and Master Timothy’ s out inspecting the farm. They left word that you were not to be hurried, and your breakfast’ s all laid ready for you as soon as you’ re ready for it—or you can have it up here if you like?” Agatha suggested. “It’s no trouble.”
    But Carol negatived the suggestion at once. She was a trifle vexed by the thought that already they were treating her as if she had not hitherto been a member of the family—which, of course, she had not! —but on this, her first morning in her new home, it would have been nicer perhaps (or, at any rate, she would have felt less of an outsider!) if either her sister-in-law or her husband (she wondered whether she would ever get used to thinking of Timothy as a husband!) or both had decided to include her in a family breakfast-party, and introduced her to the house and make her familiar with it and its surroundings.
    On the other hand, there was a certain amount of relief in the thought that she could