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had arrived, and was resting in her bedroom at Brayton before dressing for dinner. Lucia was coming up for a chat later, but Aunt Cathie was glad to be alone for a little, and recover from the excitement and strangeness of it all. It was bewildering; things happened as they did in books where money is obviously no object. Three or four motors had been waiting at the little wayside station (the train by which Aunt Cathie was to travel had been sent her on a postcard by Lucia, who was having it stopped on purpose), and out of it poured a perfect mob of people who all knew each other so intimately that she heard nothing but nicknames or Christian names. There was a Duchess among them, for Aunt Cathie heard an extremely smart female in a very rustling dress, who carried a little scarlet leather jewel-case, speak to her as "Your Grace," while everybody else called her Mouse. And slowly the awful certainty dawned on Cathie that this resplendent female was Mouse's maid. For the servants there was an enormous omnibus, and for the luggage several large carts, into which Arbuthnot, who stood looking like a tall grey monument of despair, was watching her mistress's trunks being put. Then Cathie observed that she was led away to the omnibus, which she entered with the air of one who took her place in the tumbril that was to carry her to instant execution. Then an enormous footman touched his hat to her, called her "my lady," which somehow was gratifying to Cathie, and found her a place in a motor with two strange men and the Duchess. They were all most polite and friendly, though Cathie was tongue-tied with shyness, and Mouse pushed a footstool to her, hoped she had got plenty of room, remarked how early it got dark, and wondered why the motor crawled so. To Cathie it appeared that they were going at the most dangerous pace, and it was a great relief to her when they reached the house without accident.