It is surprising how soon, at least when we are young, the greater number of us get accustomed to things.  The news of the sale of the Towers, and of Sir John Thornton’s approaching marriage, had electrified the Lorrimers and the Thorntons on Thursday.  Had electrified them to such a degree that even the common observances of life seemed queer and out of place.  It seemed wrong to eat when one was hungry; inhuman to smile; and even when one was sleepy, it seemed necessary to go to bed with a sort of apology.  Nevertheless, the hungry people had to be fed, smiles had now and then to chase away tears, and in youthful slumber sorrow was for a time forgotten.

By Saturday life was going on much as usual in the two households.  The Lorrimers were not to leave the Towers for six weeks.  There was no immediate necessity, therefore, for the younger members of the household to think about moving the pets.  Six weeks seemed something like for ever to them.  The anxious consultations of the elders were not shared by them.  Mother had come home, and mother kissed them just as tenderly as ever at night, and petted them just as much in the morning, and coddled them just as persistently when there was the least scrap of anything the matter.  Whenever they went away, mother would go with them, and that, after all, was the main thing.  In their secret hearts, they became rather excited about the move, the packing, and the new home.  Boris, it is true, sometimes woke at night with a start and a hot remembrance of the clutch the Squire had given his hand when he stood under the oak tree, and Nell sobbed out piteously once or twice, “Oh, father’s face, oh, father’s face;” but father was not with them and mother was, and the sun rose and set as usual, and the fruit ripened in great plenty, and the pets were all well, and it was holiday time, and mother earth was specially tranquilising and kind.  By Saturday, Boris, Kitty, and Nell were to all appearance just as they were before, and even the elder members of the family behaved, as Jane Macalister expressed it, “like sensible Christians.”

In the Thornton household, too, the first overwhelming shock of Sir John’s approaching marriage had passed by.  Nan had stormed and raged, and flung her arms round nurse’s neck, and sobbed herself at last to sleep on her breast, but Nan’s passion was over now, and she was even a little curious to see what sort of woman Mrs. Bernard Temple was, and what sort of girl Antonia would be.  Hester, whether her heart was heavy or light, was forced to attend to many household cares, and Annie was happy once more, for Mrs. Willis had not yet asked her for the ring.  Mrs. Willis had yielded to Hester’s strong entreaties to remain at the Grange until Monday.  She was deeply interested in the Lorrimers, and was most anxious to help Molly in any way in her power; she was also desirous of seeing Hetty through the difficult ordeal of her first introduction to her future stepmother; she resolved, therefore, at some personal sacrifice, to prolong her visit at the Grange for a few days.  No events less absorbing would have made her forget the ring.  The exciting events of Thursday had, however, put it completely out of her head.  On Friday, it is true, she did think of it, but Annie was not present at the time, and she now resolved not to trouble herself to have the ring copied, but to buy another present for her ex-pupil.

Annie knew nothing of this intention, but delay had made her bold, and, as usual, she had great faith in her own good luck.

On Saturday morning Sir John contributed vastly to the excitement and interest of the party by a certain piece of news which he read aloud to them from a letter he had just received from Mrs. Bernard Temple.

“My dear Hester,” he said, looking down the length of the table at his daughter, “did not you once tell me that you had a schoolfellow at Lavender House of the name of Susan Drummond?”

“Sleepy Susy,” exclaimed Hester with a smile.  “I had almost forgotten her, although she managed to worry me a good deal at school.  She was my room-mate for the first couple of terms.  Oh, dear, oh, dear, shall I ever forget the trouble we used to have to wake her?”

“She left Lavender House a good many years ago; what of her?” exclaimed Mrs. Willis; “the fact is, I have quite lost sight of her.”

“And so have I,” said Hester; “frankly, I did not care about remembering her.”

“Well, whether you like it or not, you are likely to hear a good deal more of her now,” said Sir John, “for Susan’s father is the new owner of the Towers, and Mrs. Bernard Temple wants to know if she may bring Susan as well as Antonia to-day, as Susan is naturally most anxious to see her new home.  Have we a vacant bedroom, Hester?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Hester, “but it seems - ”

“What, my dear?”

“Nothing, father - only - but - ”

“But me no buts,” replied Sir John in a tone of irritation.  “Nothing can be more natural than a young girl’s wish to see her future home.  I shall telegraph to Mrs. Bernard Temple to let her know that we shall be pleased to give Miss Drummond a hearty welcome.”

Sir John rose from his chair as he spoke, and a moment later left the room.

“Poor Nora,” exclaimed Hester, when the door had closed behind him.  “Susy is certain to say something to hurt her dreadfully, for unless she has tremendously altered, I never saw a creature with less tact.”

“We must hope for the best,” said Mrs. Willis.  “I am rather glad, my dear,” she added, “that I am here, for I think Miss Susy will be on her best behaviour in my presence.”

“Well, I think it’s the most awful thing that ever happened,” exclaimed Nan.  “Fancy having a sleepy thing like that at the Towers, instead of Nell and Kitty and Boris.”

The girls discussed the matter a little further, and then Hester went away to attend to Nora.

The shock of Molly’s intelligence had really affected Nora to an almost painful degree.  Her nerves had been terribly shaken by her serious fall, and she was so restless and miserable for the first twenty-four hours after the stunning blow had been given to her that the beloved Towers was no longer her home, that a doctor had to be sent for, who ordered her a soothing draught, and said that she ought to be kept extremely quiet.

By this time, however, Nora was not only better, but much interested in the strange new outlook.  She had found her life often dull enough in the dear old home - for it was by this term she now invariably spoke of the Towers - she had longed to flutter her little wings in a larger and gayer world - she had fancied the small triumphs which might be hers, and had believed much in the charms of her own pretty face.  She had dreamed dreams of herself in society, and felt sure that the fact of her being a Lorrimer of the Towers would insure her a passport into any circle.  Now, of course, matters would be different, but still the new life must be, at least, more interesting than the old.  It would be impossible any longer to have nothing to do in the day except to learn rather old-fashioned lessons under the tutorship of Jane Macalister, to contrive to dress out of almost nothing at all, and to listen for ever to Molly’s slow talk about ways and means, and the children’s chatter over their pets.  Nora looked ahead with interest.  She was sorry for Hester, of course, but she thought it would be very delightful to meet Mrs. Bernard Temple and Antonia, and even the news that Susan Drummond was coming, and that Susy’s father was now the owner of the Towers, scarcely disturbed her equanimity.

“It’s very kind of you to break it to me, Hetty,” she said; “but of course I knew that someone had bought the Towers, and why not Mr. Drummond as well as another?”

“Why not, truly,” replied Hester; “I am glad you are so sensible, Nora.  I’ll send Annie to you as soon as ever I can.  Now I must run away, as there is a great deal to be done.”

“How pale you look,” said Nora, touched with a feeling of compunction at an indescribable something in Hester’s face and voice.  “Are you really, really fretting?”

“No, I hope not,” replied Hester; “but I am really, really fighting, and that is hard work; now I must be off.”

She left the room in a hurry, and as she went away to interview the housekeeper, some tears gathered in her eyes.

“Dear, dear Molly,” she murmured to herself; “how very different she is from Nora; oh, how I wish Susy was not going to be settled at the Towers, it seems to be quite the last straw.  ’As well Mr. Drummond as another,’ says Nora; ah, but she would not say that if she really knew Susy.”

The remaining hours which were to intervene before the arrival of the guests passed swiftly by.  Sir John went alone in the landau to Nortonbury to meet them.  An omnibus was sent for the luggage and for Mrs. Bernard Temple’s and Miss Drummond’s maids.  Nan, flushed, excited, and defiant, stood in her white dress on the steps; Hester, also in white, stood by her little sister and held her hand with a firm pressure.

“Keep quiet, Nan - do keep quiet, for my sake,” she whispered once in an emphatic voice.

“I’ll vent it on Susy Drummond,” exclaimed Nan:  “she’s the safety valve; I’m glad she’s coming.”

“Here they are,” said Hester.  She felt herself turning very pale, and laid her other hand on Nan’s shoulder.  The sound of wheels was distinctly audible, and the next moment the landau with its four occupants bowled rapidly up to the door.  Mrs. Bernard Temple was all smiles and bows.  She was a graceful, well-preserved woman, handsomely and fashionably dressed.  Although the same age as Sir John, she looked years younger.  Antonia was a dark-eyed, sallow-faced girl, difficult to say anything about at the first glance, and Susy Drummond was the well-known Susy Drummond of Lavender House.  A little taller, a little fatter, a little more sleepy-looking, if that were possible, than she used to be in the old days, but still the Susy whom Hester had detested, and whose departure from the school was hailed with relief by everyone.

Before anyone else could speak she now raised her full, light blue eyes, fixed them on Hester, and drawled out, “Who would have thought of seeing you again, Prunes and Prism?”

Hester ran down the steps accompanied by Nan.  There was a confused murmur of greeting and introduction.  Mrs. Bernard Temple kissed Hester on her forehead, called her “dear child,” and looked into her eyes in a way which made Hester long to shut them, patted Nan on her shoulder and hoped she was a good, obliging little girl, and then, followed by Antonia and Susy, who dropped a succession of wraps the whole way, entered one of the drawing rooms.

“My dear John, what a perfectly charming room,” exclaimed Mrs. Bernard Temple, turning to her future husband and glancing down the long room with a critical eye.  “Furniture just a little out of date - not enough Chippendale - old-fashioned, but not antique - we’ll soon put that right, however.  Antonia has a wonderful eye for colour.  You see, she has been trained in an atelier in Paris.”

The faintest perceptible frown might have been seen between Sir John’s eyebrows.  He took no special notice of Mrs. Bernard Temple’s remark, but walking up the long and exquisitely proportioned room flung open some French windows which led into a flower garden, gay with every imaginable flower.  There was a distant and very lovely view from this window.

“I think you will admire the landscape from this window,” he said, turning and speaking with an air of great deference to his distinguished guest.

“In one moment, my love,” she replied.  “Antonia, what do you think of old gold curtains, and one of those dark olive-green papers for the walls?  This light decoration is absolutely inadmissible.”

“Old gold is quite out of date,” replied Antonia, opening her lips for the first time.  “I’m sick of old gold, it’s not chic now.  I’ll look through some of my antique designs and sketch my idea of a drawing-room for you presently, mother; now pray attend to Sir John.”

Mrs. Bernard Temple favoured her daughter with a glance which was returned in a very frank and determined manner by that young lady.  She then sailed slowly up the room and condescended to admire the view pointed out by Sir John.

Hester was standing near one of the windows talking to Susy, who had already sunk into an easy chair, and was fanning herself with an enormous black fan which hung at her girdle.  Antonia, after a moment’s hesitation, came up to Hester.

“I’m very sorry we have come,” she said, “but it really is not my fault.  Mother is in a state of flutter at having caught Sir John.  I’m disgusted about it all.  I don’t want a stepfather any more than you want a stepmother.  I’m to be turned into a fine lady now, and I hate being a fine lady.  I have a soul for art.  I adore art.  I’m all art.  Art is sacred; it shouldn’t be talked about the way mother speaks of it.  When I was in Paris I was in my element.  I wore a linen blouse all over paint; ah, that blouse - those happy days.”

“Oh, Tony,” suddenly burst from Susy’s lips, “for pity’s sake don’t go off into a trance; you’ll put Hester into a fit.  Her face at the present moment is enough to kill anyone.  For goodness sake, Hester, don’t look like that; you’ll make me laugh, and if I laugh immoderately it always wakes me up.  I was looking out for a little nap before tea - forty winks, you know - I can’t live without my forty winks, and now if you put on that killingly tragic face, I’ll scream with laughter, I know I shall.  Oh, dear, oh, dear, you must learn once for all never to mind a single thing Tony says; she’s the oddest, most irrational creature - a genius of course - her pictures are simply monstrosities, which is a sure sign of genius.”

“Would you like me to take you to your room?” said Hester, turning to Antonia when Susy had given her a moment of time to open her lips.  “I’m sure you must be tired after your long journey.”

“What should tire me?” asked Antonia, opening her big brown eyes in astonishment.  “I travelled first-class from London, and drove out here in a landau; the whole journey was nothing short of effeminate.  When I was in Paris I rose at four in the morning, and worked at my easel standing for five hours at a stretch; that was something like work.  No, I’m not the least tired, thank you, and I don’t want to be bothered tidying myself, for I may as well say frankly that I don’t care twopence how I look.”

“Tea will be ready in half an hour,” said Hester.  “Will you come out into the garden, then, for a stroll?”

“If you don’t hate me too much to walk with me; but pray consider your own feelings if you do, for I don’t in the least object to strolling about alone.”

Hester and Antonia had now stepped out on the velvet lawn.  They each gazed fully at the other.

“No,” said Hester, speaking with a sudden swift intuition; “I don’t hate you; I rather like you.  I am glad you are frank.”

“Oh, I hate pretence,” said Antonia, with a shudder.  “Fancy a priestess of art stooping to pretence.  Well, if you don’t detest me, let us walk about for a little.  Have you no wild, uncultured spot to show me, which the hand of man has not defaced?  My whole soul recoils from a velvet lawn.”

“Oh, Tony, Tony, you’re too killing to live,” shrieked Susy from the other side of the window.

Antonia and Hester moved slowly away together; Hester was trying to think of some portion of the grounds which might be sufficiently full of weeds and thorns to satisfy the priestess of high art, and Susy lay back in her chair and wiped her eyes.

“This is rich,” she murmured to herself.  “To think of poor Prunes and Prism being thrown with Tony - to think of Tony as a sort of sister to Prunes and Prism.  Well, this is a delicious lark.  Hullo! is that you, Nan?  Come along and speak to me at once, you pert puss.  Why, do you know you’ve grown?”

“Well, I don’t suppose I’ve stood still for the last five years,” replied Nan, who could be intensely pert when she pleased.  “I’m too busy to stay with you now, Susy; Nora wants me.”

“Nora; who is Nora?”

“Nora Lorrimer.”

“Nora Lorrimer, is she one of the Tower Lorrimers?”

“Yes; she wants me in a hurry; I must fly to her.”

“Stay a moment, my dear child,” Susy absolutely rose from her chair in her strong interest.  “If this girl is one of the Tower Lorrimers, I had better know her at once; you had better bring her to me and I’ll question her.”

“I can’t bring her to you; she has had a fall and is lying on her back; she can’t walk.”

“Dear me, what a nuisance; well, I’ll go to her, then.  Come along, Nancy, show me the way this minute.”

“But really, really, Susy,” began Nan, raising blue, imploring eyes.  “Really, it is very sad about the Towers, you know.”

“Sad; good heavens, are the drains wrong?”

“It’s sad about the Lorrimers,” continued Nan, stamping her foot and growing red with anger; “we love the Lorrimers; they are our dearest, our very, very dearest friends, and we hate their leaving the Towers.  Perhaps Nora doesn’t want to see you, Susy.”

“Come along,” said Susy in a firm voice; “I want to see her.  What sentimental folly you talk, Nan.  Squire Lorrimer was very glad indeed to find such a purchaser as my father for his tumbledown old place.”

“The Towers tumbledown!” exclaimed Nan, “the beautiful, lovely, darling Towers!  Susy, I hate you - I hate and detest you; I won’t show you the way to Nora’s room, so there!”

Nan pulled her frock out of Susy’s detaining hand and rushed away.

Miss Drummond stood quite still for a moment where she had been left.  Then she put up her hand to smooth her brow.

“This sort of thing would be ruffling to most people,” she murmured, “but I really don’t mind.  Now, shall I have my forty winks before tea, or shall I poke round by myself until I find this blessed aggrieved Nora?  That horrid little piece of impertinence has quite woke me up, so it’s scarcely worth while to get soothed down again; I think I’ll find Nora and ask for some information which I am anxious to write to father about, then after tea I can have a snooze until it is time to dress for dinner.  Dear, dear, they might have the politeness to have tea ready on one’s arrival.  I expect my stay here will be precious slow, with their old-fashioned, prim ideas; if it weren’t for Tony I’d die, but she’d really make a cat laugh; it will be better than a play to watch her at dinner to-night with Sir John.  Now, then, for a search for the tearful Nora.”

Susy, accordingly, in her usual ponderous, somewhat heavy mode of progress, wandered from one room to another until at last the sound of voices guided her to the pretty little boudoir, where Annie Forest and Nora had taken shelter, and where Nan was now standing, pouring out her tale of woe.  A slight creak which the door made caused the girls to turn their heads, and there stood Susy, shedding articles of her wardrobe, as usual, as she walked.  Her flaxen hair was partly unpinned and lay in a rough coil on her fat neck.  She came with elephantine weight into the room, and ignoring Annie Forest altogether, held out a hand to Nora.

“Here I am,” she said.  “I’m Susy Drummond.  ’Miss Susan Drummond, the Towers,’ will soon be on my visiting cards.  Isn’t the place very ramshackle?  Doesn’t it want to be put into repair a good bit?  I’m just dying to hear all about it.  Oh, and here’s an American swinging-chair - I just adore them.  You don’t mind if I see-saw gently while you talk to me.  Nan, I bear no malice; fetch me a footstool, love, and let me know when tea is brought into the drawing-room.  Annie, how do?  I hope the female dragon is very well.”  Annie flushed crimson.  Only a startled look on Nora’s pretty face enabled her to control herself.  She walked to the window and looked out.

Susy blinked her sleepy eyes after her.

“Never mind,” she said, winking at Nora, “it’s an old feud which I buried - I’m the most forgiving creature in Christendom - but if she chooses to dig up the hatchet, I can’t help her.  I always called that detestable Mrs. Willis the she-dragon.  You don’t know her, I suppose?  You’re in luck, I can tell you.  Thank you, Nan, for the footstool.  Now, this is most comfortable.  You’ll begin to tell me all you can about the Towers, won’t you?” she continued, bending slightly forward and laying her fat hand on Nora’s slim white arm; “and so you really are a Lorrimer?  How profoundly interesting.”

Nora fidgeted restlessly on her sofa.

“I’m a Lorrimer,” she said at last in a steady voice.  “I - I don’t think I can tell you about the Towers; you’ll probably go and see the place for yourself, either to-morrow or Monday.”

“I shall certainly go to-morrow, and at an early hour, too; my father is most anxious to get my opinion on it.”

“Well, then, you’ll see it for yourself.”

“So I shall - quite true, little Miss Rosebud; but, nevertheless, there is such a thing as curiosity, which, doubtless, you can gratify.  Now, let’s begin.  I’m nothing if I’m not practical.  How many bedrooms are there?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?  Are you simple?  Have not you lived there all your life?”

“I have, but I don’t really know.  Perhaps if I count I can tell you.  First, in the Tower, there’s Jane Macalister’s room, and Boris sleeps near her, and then there’s Kitty - she has a room to herself - it’s rather small, but she’s immensely proud of it, and there’s Nell and - ”

Susy suddenly clapped her hands to her ears.

“For goodness sake stop,” she exclaimed.  “What do I care for your Macalisters, and Boris’s, and Kittys?  I want to know how many bedrooms there are - ten, twelve, twenty, thirty?  Can’t you count?”

“Yes, perfectly,” replied Nora with spirit; “but I never troubled myself to count the number of bedrooms at the Towers; you can do so for yourself when you go to see it to-morrow.”

“Thanks for nothing.  If I’m anything I’m practical, and I shall not only count the bedrooms to-morrow, but measure them also.  I shall take a measuring tape with me, and my maid Linette and a foot measure.”

“How pleasant for Linette to be sandwiched between a measuring tape and a foot measure,” exclaimed Annie, turning round from her position at the window and speaking for the first time.

Susy favoured her with a slow glance of intense dislike.  Slightly turning her back she proceeded with her catechism of Nora.

“At least you can say something about the drawing-rooms.  How many feet long is the principal drawing-room?”

Before poor Nora could reply, the door of the room was slowly opened and Mrs. Willis, with her usual calm, strong face, entered.

Susy Drummond gave such a start of dismayed surprise that Annie forgave her a good many of her sins on the spot.

Mrs. Willis came up to her and held out her hand.

“How do you do?” she said.  “Sir John Thornton told us this morning at breakfast that we might have the pleasure of meeting you here.  Are you well?”

“Oh, yes, I’m - I’m quite well, ma’am,” replied Susy, stammering out her words in hopeless confusion.

“Nora, dear, you are looking very tired,” continued Mrs. Willis.  “I propose to have tea with you here alone, and to read to you for a little afterwards.  Annie, will you take Miss Drummond to the drawing-room?  I saw the tea equipage being taken in as I passed.”

Susy shambled out of the room in Annie’s wake.