The Secret Passage

IS you

rant, Mi

Miss Loach only to

-five,

r work as parlor

and six months in another, ma’am. Here a

ed the applicant with such close attention that a faint color tinted the girl’s cheeks and she dropped her eyes. But, in her turn, by stealthy

ight turn my old dresses at a pinch. Sad expression, as though she had something on her mind. Honest-looking, but I think a trifle inquisitive, seeing how she

ar purple silk and old lace and lovely rings at this hour. A hard mouth, thin nose, very white hair and very black eyebrows. Got a temper I

after a few more questions, appeared satisfied. All the time she kept a pair of very black eyes piercingly fixed on the girl’s face, as thoug

fire, with a shiver, although the month was June. “The

aid Susan and

e — jilted probably. All the better, as she wo

read my char

ge for myself,” said she calmly. “Most characters I read are f

panish la

holding, with a clatter, and frowned so deeply that her

Gredos

at her breast as though the reply had taken away her breat

ble. “I thought the hou

Can any house be too gay

e. Although she is an invalid, ma’am, Senora Gredos was very gay. Many people came to her house and

nearly every evening four friends of mine call to play. H

Patience’ myself when alone. I mean gambling — there w

n invalid I t

her back. She has been lying on a couch for two years unable to move. Yet she has herself whe

e face of the girl. “You are too inquisitive and too talkative

a’am, I hope I’ve said nothing wron

te of everything you s

girl earnestly. “I r

orted Miss Loach. “Hold

fairly large windows looked on to the area, which had been roofed with glass and turned into a conservatory. Here appeared scarlet geraniums and other bright-hued flowers, interspersed with ferns and delicate grasses. Owing to the position of the room and the presen

ss, and round the walls were numerous electric lamps with yellow shades. The whole room represented a bizarre appearance, flamboyant and rather tropical in looks. Apparently Miss Loach was fond of vivid colors. There was no piano, nor were there books or papers, and the only evidence as to how Miss Loach passed her time revealed itself in a work-basket and a pack of cards. Yet

ma’a

h imperiously, “no one speaks to me, u

the stairs, and sat down when she heard the front door close. But she was up again almost in a moment and pacing the room. Apparently

s, and she arranged with a porter that these should be wheeled in a barrow to Rose Cottage, as Miss Loach’s abode was primly called. Having come to terms, Susan left the sta

ted, and lines of white fences divided the roads from gardens yet in their infancy. Fronting these were damp-looking red brick villas, belonging to small clerks and petty tradesmen. Down one street was a row of shops filled with the necessaries of civilization; and round the corner, an aggressively new church of yellow bri

ged to find the top of a crooked lane at the bottom of which Rose Cottage was situated. This lane showed by its very crookedness that it belonged to the ancient civilization of the district. Here were no paths, no lamps, no aggressively new fences and raw brick houses. Susan, stepping down the slight incline, passed into quite an old world, smacking of the Georgian times, leisurely and quaint. On either side of the lane, old-fashioned cottages, with whitewash walls

. The thatched and tiled roofs did not seem meet neighbors, and the whitewash walls of the old-world cottage looked dingy beside the glaring redness of the new villa. The front door in the new part was reached by a flight of dazzling white steps. From this, a veranda ran across the front of the cottage, its rustic posts supporting rose-trees and ivy. On the cottage side appeared an old garden, but the new wing was surrounded by

was no back door, so far as she could see, and she thought it best to enter as she had done in the mo

the cook, hustling the girl into the hall, “but now being the hous

y other entrance,

ottage, which, it appeared was the servants’ quarters, “you looked down t

ed Susan, on being shown into a comfortable roo

s Loach have weak eyes and don’t like glare. She lives like a rabbit in a burrow, and though the rooms on the ground floor are sich as the King might in’abit, she don’t come up often save to eat. She

’t mea

e having been cook to Miss Loach for years an’ years and years. But if you had wished to behave like a servant, as you are,” added she with emphasis, “why did

,” said Susan, t

is with a disparaging look at the rather smart costume of the newly-arrived housemaid. “I don’t ‘old with cockes feathers and fal-dedals on ‘umble folk myself, not but what I coul

e good-natured heart of the cook was touched, especially when S

if he’s a day, and likewise coachman, when he drives out Miss Loach in her donkey carriage. Thomas is his name, my love.” The cook was rapidly becoming more and more friendly, “and the housemaid is called Geraldine, for which ‘eaven forgives her parents, she bein

leasant little room at the back. She shared this with the spotty Geraldine, who seemed to be a good-natured girl. Apparently Miss Loach looked after her servants and made them comfortable. Thomas proved to be amiable if somewh

, equally as garish in color as the apartment below. The table appointments were elegant, and Mrs. Pill served a nice little meal to which Miss Loach did full justice. She wore the same purple dress, but with the ad

a’am,” said Susan,

ouble?” asked Mi

, ma

At eight, three people will arrive — a lady and two gentlemen. You will show them into the sitting-room and put out the card-table. Then you can go to

ned on an ebony cane. With her were two men, one a rather rough foolish-looking fellow, and the other tall, dark, and well-dressed in an evening suit. A carriage was just driving away from the gate. As th