t most
ill-conditioned. When he is especially bad-tempered he vents his anger
on his quiet room-fellow, who never seems to hear him but works away as
though he were a thousand miles distant from the grumbling and scolding.
Well, it seems that the other day, despairing, perhaps, of rousing Mr.
Gray by any other methods, he made a reference to Mary as having got
into fine society and looking down on her father. It's a little place,
after all, my dear, and you and your motor-car are known as well as the
Town Hall. Mr. Gray got up very quietly and threw the man downstairs;
then went back to his work without a word. Gordon saw it in quite the
right way. He said that the person thoroughly well deserved it, but that
the next time he mightn't get off with a few bruises, and that would be
awkward for Mr. Gray. So he has given him another room."

"Ah, bravo!" Lady Agatha clapped her hands together. "That's where Mary
gets it. I've seen the light of battle in her eye--haven't you?"

"Sometimes--when she has heard of cruelty and injustice."

Now that Mary's schooling was over, she was to see the world under Lady
Anne's auspices. They were to go abroad soon after Christmas, to be in
Rome for Easter, to dawdle about the Continent where they would and for
as long as they would. Everything was planned and mapped out. Mary had
her neat travelling-dress of grey cloth, tailor-made, her close-fitting
toque, her veil and gloves, all her equipment, lying ready to put on.
Her old friend, Simmons, had packed her travelling trunk. It had come to
almost the last day.

And, to be sure, Mary must be much with her father and the others during
those last hours. She had gone with her father for a long country walk.

"I wish you were coming, too," said Mary, clinging closely to his arm.

"You will be bringing me back fine stories," her father said, patting
her hand. "I shall be seeing the world through your eyes, child."

"I shall write to you every day."

"I shan't expect that, Mary. You will be moving from place to place. I
know you will write when you can, and I am always sure of your love."

While they talked Lady Anne was receiving Dr. Carruthers professionally.
She had had symptoms, weaknesses, pangs, of which she had told nobody.

"I was inclined to go without telling you anything about it, doctor,"
she said. "I was as keen upon it as the child. I am more disappointed
than she will be. I have been wilful all my life, but I am glad I di