“Oh, no, thank you,” Mrs. Conway replied.  “Now that I am fairly awake and realize where I am, I am perfectly ready to get up.  I could not think the first moment I opened my eyes where I had got to, and fancied I had overslept myself and should get a nice scolding.”

“You must wear one of my dresses, my dear,” the vicar’s wife said.  “You have done with that servant’s gown for good.  I will bring you one in a few minutes.”

In half an hour Mrs. Conway came down in a pretty morning dress of Mrs. Withers’.  Mabel had that moment made her appearance in the breakfast-room.  She had returned only a week before from her stay at Bath, having positively mutinied against the proposal that she should stay there for another six months.  She started at the entry of a stranger.

“Don’t you know me, Mabel?” Mrs. Conway said, holding out her hand.

“Why—­why—­” Mabel exclaimed, “it’s Mrs. Conway.  When did you come, and what have you been doing to yourself?  Why, your hair is quite a different color!  What does it all mean, mamma?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Mrs. Conway came last night, Mabel, after you were in bed.”

“But you didn’t tell me she was coming, mamma.”

“We didn’t know ourselves, dear; she arrived quite unexpectedly.”

“And—­” and Mabel stopped.

“And I have got on one of your mamma’s dresses,” Mrs. Conway laughed, interpreting Mabel’s look of surprise.  “Yes, dear, and as you say, I have dyed my hair.”

“But why, Mrs. Conway?  It was such a pretty color before.”

“And it will be again some day, I hope, for I am not going to dye it any more.”

“I am glad of that,” Mabel said frankly; “for you look quite different somehow.  But why did you do it? and why—­Is there anything the matter, Mrs. Conway,” she broke off suddenly, “that you come here without being expected, and are wearing one of mamma’s dresses, and have dyed your hair, and look so different altogether?  Have you heard anything about Ralph?”

“You will hear all about it presently, Mabel,” Mr. Withers, who had just come into the room, said.  “You owe a great debt of gratitude to Mrs. Conway, as you will hear presently; for she has for six months been working in the interest of Ralph and you.  Now, don’t open your eyes so wide, but sit down to the table.  After we have had breakfast Mrs. Conway will tell us all about it.”

“By the way, Mrs. Conway, have you heard the news?”

“What news, Mrs. Withers?”

“In the newspaper I got yesterday evening it was said that a despatch had just been received from the Duke of Wellington saying he had news that Bonaparte was advancing, and that he had just issued orders for the troops to march forward to support the Prussians, who were likely to be first attacked.”

“No, I had heard nothing about it,” Mrs. Conway said, turning pale.  “Then there is going to be a battle, and Ralph will be engaged.”