Eeny stood looking thoughtfully out at the gorgeous hues of the wintry sunset and the still landscape, where no living thing moved.

She was in a cozy little room called the housekeeper's room, but which Grace never used, except when she made up her accounts, or when her favourite apartment, the dining-room, was occupied.

A bright fire burned in the grate, and the curtained windows and carpeted floor were the picture of comfort.

It had been used latterly as a sewing-room, and Agnes Darling sat at the other window embroidering a handkerchief for Rose.

There had been a long silence--the seamstress never talked much; and Eeny was off in a daydream.