In spite of a firm intention to remain awake, Frances soon fell into quiet slumber and knew nothing more until the next morning. February dawns in England are dark, but when she finally opened her eyes, the room was faintly lighted by the coming sun and her watch told her that it was after eight.

Edith still seemed asleep, but from the bed at the left, Connie smiled back at her. For some reason known only to herself, their gay little hostess had decreed that Frances should take the centre bed.

"Awake?" she whispered. "How's Edith? Is she still off?"

As though she heard her name, Edith stirred, turned over and finally rose on one elbow.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Constance. "We needn't get up unless you like. When we are ready, Yvonne is to bring us breakfast in my sitting-room. We'll wash and put on boudoir caps and eat en negligÉe."

At this delightful programme both girls became wide awake in an instant.

"And you will tell us about the ghost?" asked Frances.

"I will," replied Constance, sitting up and gathering her pretty kimono about her, a lovely white Japanese crepe embroidered in gold with fire-eating dragons of appalling size. One stretched across the front as she fastened the folds. The girls also rose and put on their dressing-gowns. Unlocking the door, Constance looked into the hall.

"I'll just see that the coast is clear before the procession forms," she remarked. "Daddy's rooms are down-stairs but Max's is on our way. I'm quite sure though that he and Dad are already out, for Dad likes to attend early service and Max has probably gone with him like a dutiful young man."

As the three started, Edith turned to glance searchingly around.

"What are you looking for?" asked Frances.

"For the pussy," replied Edith, hurrying to overtake them. "I thought there was one in the room."

"Miss Connie put it out," said Frances, laughing. "Wake up, Edith!"

As Edith spoke, Constance stopped to look at her rather oddly, then went on quickly.

"When you are ready, come to my sitting-room," she said on reaching their door. "It is at the end of this hall."

When the girls appeared ten minutes later, Constance was yet invisible. In the sitting-room a table stood before a couch piled with pillows, and two cushioned chairs opened luxurious arms.

"Isn't this the dearest room," said Frances appreciatively as she settled herself. "I suppose this is Miss Connie's own especial place where no one comes without an invitation."

In some respects the room was very unlike the sanctum of the average girl. While not lacking in the daintiness bestowed by fresh flowers, gay chintz and white draperies, it contained a number of objects not often seen in a boudoir. On a teakwood stand in one corner, against the background of a valuable Oriental rug in shimmering greens and blues, sat a curious Indian idol. Constance's desk might once have been used by some Italian princess in the days of Dante, and above it hung a beautiful silver lamp that could well cause envy in the breast of Aladdin. Pictures and ornaments alike spoke of wanderings in distant lands and from their unusual individuality indicated a wide range of interest in their possessor.

The door into the adjoining bedroom opened and Constance came out attired in a lounging-robe that made both girls gasp with admiration.

"Oh, Miss Connie," Frances exclaimed, "what a beautiful kimono. And what color is it?"

"Guess," said Constance merrily. "For a long time I didn't know myself what to call it."

"It isn't blue nor gray," said Edith admiringly.

"Nor green nor violet," added Frances reflectively, "and yet it is all of them. I've seen something like it but I can't think what."

"I suppose only an Oriental artist could conceive such a combination," said Constance, ringing the bell for Yvonne and then curling into a little heap on the couch. "Dad brought it to me from Paris and I keep it for very special occasions. I couldn't make out what color it was but I loved it the minute I opened the box and I knew you girls would. I've thought very seriously of having it made into an evening coat, for it is too lovely to be used only in my room. But about its color. One day this Christmas vacation I was feeling a bit poorly, so I had tea up here and let Dad and Max come. I slipped on this robe to receive them in state and the minute Max saw it, he told me what it was like. The thing is in plain sight."

The girls glanced about the room. Edith's eyes lingered for a second on a brass bowl full of blue hyacinths, but passed on.

"I have it!" exclaimed Frances, noticing a slight inclination of Connie's fair head toward the open casement. "It's the color of the ocean!"

"Right!" said Constance. "The moment Max said so, I knew it. He did it very prettily, too, with some remark about the 'lady from the sea.' The silk really does change and shade as the water under storm and sun."

There came a tap and Yvonne, bearing a most tempting tray, entered with a smiling "Bon jour, mes demoiselles." Fruit, a fat little chocolate pot sending forth a delicious odor, and flanked by delicate china and shining silver, whipped cream, marshmallows, French rolls, sweet unsalted butter and raspberry jam, made the girls feel hungry at the mere sight. Dainty green and white snowdrops, tucked here and there by Yvonne's artistic fingers added the final touch.

"I think this is the greatest fun," said Frances. "Do you always have your breakfast this way?"

"Bless you, no," replied Constance. "This is an occasional Sunday morning indulgence. Every other day of the week, I am up, dressed and in my right mind to breakfast with my Dad. He'd think the world was coming down about his ears if his Connie wasn't there to pour his coffee. I warned him that we were going to have a debauch this morning and he won't care anyway, because he has Max. What did you mean, Edith, about a cat? Did you dream of Grayfur?"

"Why, no, it wasn't Grayfur," said Edith, dropping a marshmallow into her chocolate and watching it dissolve. "I thought Mr. Max succeeded in carrying out his joke. He must have come back much later and put another pussy in from behind the portrait. I woke some time in the night, oh, hours after, because the moonlight was 'way across the room, and sitting in it, washing its face, was the prettiest little half-grown kitten. It was a perfect beauty, white with a plumy tail. I spoke to it very softly so as not to wake either of you, and it looked at me and purred but would not come. I watched it chase its tail for a little and then it jumped in a big chair and curled itself up to sleep. I suppose it must have gone out when the door was opened this morning. May we see it again, Miss Connie? It was much prettier than Grayfur. But do tell us now about the ghost. We are in such a hurry to hear."

"You know practically all there is to know," said Constance whimsically.

Both girls stared at her. "What do you mean!" asked Edith. "Is it a joke? Isn't there any ghost?"

"You know better than I do," replied Constance, tasting her chocolate critically. "Did you have sugar, Frances? Why, you've seen the ghost, Edith, which is more than I can say."

Edith's face was a picture of surprise. "Seen it!" she repeated.
"Why, I saw nothing at all."

"I told you, didn't I, that the people who saw the ghost never knew it at the time? This is the legend. About a century ago, the Richard Lisle, then owner of the Manor, married a very charming young wife. He was madly in love with her and was inclined to be rather jealous. The story runs that he couldn't bear to have her lavish affection on anything but him, was jealous of her dog and her horse and even of her flower-garden. Winifred Lisle had a very pretty white Persian kitten—"

Constance stopped, for Edith's spoon fell with a clatter. "You don't mean that darling purry little pussy was the ghost!" she exclaimed.

"Listen to the story," Constance went on smiling. "Dick Lisle objected to even this wee kit since it took some of his Winifred's time and attention and he gave orders that it was never to be admitted to the room where they spent the evening, presumably the library. The kitten disappeared and Winifred mourned for it. Months later, its little corpse was found on the secret stairs behind the portrait."

"Then Mr. Max didn't put a cat into the room?" asked Frances eagerly.

"I think not, unless he took the trouble to bring a white kitten with him from Paris. Max is quite capable of doing it for a joke, but he could not know, you see, that we were planning to sleep in that room last night. And there is no white kitten about the Manor."

"Isn't that the oddest story!" said Edith in deep interest. "Why, Miss Connie, I'm as sure as I am of anything that I saw that pussy playing in the moonlight. It was the sweetest little thing and I did wish it would come and cuddle by me in bed. Is it really a ghost? How do you account for it?"

"I don't account for it," said Constance. "You can consider it a pretty dream if you wish. I never saw it and I have a fancy that it is because I am not fond of cats. When Frances said she did not like them, I knew that she would not see the little ghost kit either, and so I wanted you to take the bed nearest the moonlight."

"That's the most interesting thing that ever happened to me," said
Edith. "I'm so glad I saw it."

"Whether it is imagination or dream, I rather like to think of the kitten ghost playing so gayly with its tail on moonlight nights," said Connie. "No, only three or four people have seen it. The room is not often used, and like Edith, they supposed it a kitten that had somehow got in. Well, is the Manor ghost satisfactory?"

"I think it's the dearest thing I ever heard of," said Edith happily. "But do you suppose that Winifred's husband shut it in there deliberately?"

"We'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Cats are always poking about in odd places. The door in the library may have been open a crack and the kit gone in to investigate. Once I accidentally shut a kitten into a drawer in the linen closet. Luckily Paget happened to open it within an hour and she was surprised enough to find a pussy there. Now for the rest of the morning. I heard Frances say that she wanted to hear a church service in French just to see whether she could follow. If you like, I'll get Max to take us into town and we will find a French church to attend."

"That would be lovely," declared Fran enthusiastically. "I really believe I could understand quite a little now."

"Thank you, Miss Connie," said Edith. "I'm afraid I ought to go home. Fran can stay just as well as not, but Sister depends upon me to go to church with her. I always do, you know."

Edith colored and looked uncomfortable, feeling that perhaps she was being ungracious.

"You're a good little sister," said Constance quickly. "And you would not care so much as Frances because you have always spoken French. I imagine Dad will go to St. Aubin's and he'll take you home. I'll make Max go with us."

Max was perfectly willing to play escort, but looked dubious when Constance declared her intention of stopping at a tiny French church just inside the town of St. Helier's. "Have you ever been here?" he demanded.

"No," admitted Constance. "Of course we might go to the Convent of St. AndrÉ. I forgot, though, they wouldn't let you in. Frances only wants to hear a sermon in French and this will answer very well."

Max still looked disapproving. "You won't like it," he said. "It's a queer, non-conformist sect of some kind. There's a place the other side of town where they have the Church of England service in French. Let's go there."

"Why not stop here?" persisted Constance. "More exciting when one doesn't know what's coming next."

"One may get more than one bargains for," commented Max. "Connie, I have a premonition that we'll land in some mess."

Connie made a delightful little face. "Come in," she said to Frances.
"I was under the impression that we invited Max to escort us."

When Frances returned home from church, she was distressed to find Win in bed.

"He overdid yesterday," said Mrs. Thayne in reply to her anxious questioning. "I can't discover exactly what happened, but he and Roger were out together and Win walked too far. That's all he will admit. No, he isn't as badly off as sometimes, and says he only needs a rest. Come up in his room, Fran, to tell your adventures."

To Fran's eyes Win looked decidedly ill when she saw him lying against his pillows, but he evaded all inquiries and demanded to know about the Manor ghost.

"That wasn't the end of our experiences," Frances went on laughing, when the events of the night had been thoroughly discussed. "We had a funny time in that little church. Mr. Max didn't want to go there in the beginning, but Miss Connie insisted. Inside, it didn't look much like a church for it was a great bare room, with not many people present. The usher made us sit rather far front, so we had a good view of the minister, who was a little man with black hair that stood straight up, and his manner was very excited.

"The service seemed unusual for different people kept getting up and talking. I couldn't understand much and Mr. Max looked annoyed and Miss Connie amused. Finally a boy about my age began to speak. He wore the oddest vest and trousers of rose-pink sateen plaided with purple. We could see distinctly because the minister made him come out in front and face the people. Well, the clothes he had on were enough to make any one smile, but when he finished speaking, the minister bounced out of the pulpit and kissed him on both cheeks! He did, honest!" Fran insisted in answer to Roger's whistle of incredulity.

"I don't know what would have happened next, for the service was really very strange, but when the minister kissed that boy, Mr. Max gave a little grunt and took up his hat. I was sitting between them, and he leaned forward and said in such a disgusted tone, 'My word, Connie, will you come?'

"I think Miss Connie was trying not to laugh but I guess she'd had enough herself for she rose and we went out very quietly so as not to disturb anybody.

"When we reached the street," Frances went on, "Mr. Max was so funny. He didn't say a word, only stalked along looking quite cross. Miss Connie sat down on a wall and laughed till she cried. Then she told Mr. Max to smile and show his dimple. But he wouldn't. I don't see how he could help it when she was so pretty and sweet. Well, after she laughed some more, she begged him please to look affectionate.

"At that he couldn't help smiling, and then he asked Miss Connie if she was ever going to stop getting herself and him into scrapes. She called him 'old boy' and said she was sorry,—she wasn't really," Fran interpolated with a wise nod,—"and promised to stick to the Church of England service ever after. Mr. Max inquired how much I understood and when I told him only a little, he said it was lucky. That was certainly a very peculiar church," Frances ended reflectively. "I'm quite sure that Mr. Max wanted to come out long before we did, and that Miss Connie persisted in staying just to tease him."

Win was smiling over his sister's story, but though he evinced interest both in the Manor ghost and in the amusing experience Connie had furnished with her little French church, the point that most impressed him was Max's presence at the Manor.

"I wish I could see him," he observed. "I want so much to ask a question or two. Did Miss Connie tell him about the paper I found and how we explored the vaults and sounded the walls?"

"She did," assented Frances. "We talked about it after dinner. Mr. Max was as interested as could be and said he was going down himself to take a look."

"Mother," said Win suddenly. "I really need to see him. Don't you believe he'd come in for a minute if he knew I was used up so I couldn't get to the Manor?"

"Indeed, I do," assented Mrs. Thayne. "Write a note, dear. Roger shall take it for you."

Roger, who for some reason haunted his brother's room in a subdued mood not at all common to his usual attitude toward life, was very willing to act as messenger. Toward night, Max appeared at Rose Villa.