efore he went off to speak with Charmian, as she supposed.
The moment he was gone she saw that it would not do; that she could not
have him coming to look at her work; she did not feel that she could
ever touch it again. She wondered at him, and now if he had spoken to
Mrs. Maybough instead of Charmian, it was not her fault, certainly. She
did not wish to revenge herself, but she remembered how much she had
been left to account for as she could, or painfully to ignore. If he
was mystified and puzzled now, it was no more than she had been before.

There was nothing that Cornelia hated so much as to be made a fool of,
and this was the grievance which she was willing fate should retaliate
upon him, though she had not meant it at all. She ought to have been
satisfied, and she ought to have been happy, but she was not.

She wished to escape from herself, and she eagerly accepted an
invitation to go with Mrs. Montgomery to the theatre that night. The
manager had got two places and given them to the landlady.

Cornelia had a passion for the theatre, and in the excitement of the
play, which worked strongly in her ingenuous fancy, she forgot herself
for the time, or dimly remembered the real world and her lot in it, as
if it were a subordinate action of the piece. At the end of the fourth
act she heard a voice which she knew, saying, "Well, well! Is this the
way the folks at Pymantoning expect you to spend your evenings?" She
looked up and around, and saw Mr. Dickerson in the seat behind her. He
put forward two hands over her shoulder--one for her to shake, and one
for Mrs. Montgomery.

"Why, Mr. Dickerson!" said the landlady, "where did you spring from?
You been sitting here behind us all the time?"

"I wish I had," said Dickerson. "But this seat is 'another's,' as they
say on the stage; he's gone out 'to see a man,' and I'm keeping it for
him. Just caught sight of you before the curtain fell. Couldn't hardly
believe my eyes."

"But where _are_ you? Why haven't you been round to the house?"

"Well, I'm only here for a day," said Dickerson, with a note of
self-denial in his voice that Cornelia knew was meant for her, "and I
thought I wouldn't disturb you. No use making so many bites of a
cherry. I got in so late last night I had to go to a hotel anyway."

Mrs. Montgomery began some hospitable expostulations, but be waived
them with, "Yes; that's all right. I'll remember it next time, Mrs.
Montgomery," and then he began t