CHAPTER III.
A CHANGE OF DYNASTY.
With the cold November sunlight flooding her room, Grace rose next morning, dressed and went down stairs.

Very neat and lady-like she looked, in her spotted gingham wrapper, her snowy collar and cuffs, and her dark hair freshly braided.
A loud-voiced clock in the entrance-hall struck seven.

No one seemed to be astir in the house but herself, and her footsteps echoed weirdly in the dark passages.

A sleepy scullery maid was lighting the kitchen fire when she got there, gaping dismally over her work; and Grace, leaving some directions for Ma'am Ledru, the cook, departed again, this time for the dining-room, where footman James was lighting another fire.

Grace opened the shutters, drew back the curtains, and let in the morning sunburst in all its glory.