together. There will be fewer creature comforts where I am going to, and
my feet will not be so quick to do evil, which will at least be a saving
of shoe-leather.

"Good-bye, old girl--loyal, unselfish, devoted friend! God will reward
you yet, and a good man who has been chasing a Will-o'-the-wisp will open
his eyes to see that all the time the star of the morning has been by his
side. Tomorrow, when I leave the house, I know I shall want to run up and
kiss you as you lie asleep, but I mustn't do that--the little druggeted
stairs to your room would be like the road to another but not a better
place, which is also paved with good intentions. What a scatter-brain I
am! My heart is breaking, too, with all this severing of my poor little
riven cords. Your foolish old chummie (the last of her),

"Glory."

Next morning, almost as soon as it was light, she rose and drew a little
tin box from under the bed. It was the box that had brought all her
belongings to London when she first came from her island home. Out of
this box she took a simple gray costume--the costume she had bought for
outdoor wear when a nurse at the hospital. Putting it on, she looked at
herself in the glass. The plain gray figure, so unlike what she had been
the night before, sent a little stab to her heart, and she sighed.

"But this is Glory, after all," she thought. "This is the granddaughter
of my grandfather, the daughter of my father, and not the visionary woman
who has been masquerading in London so long." But the conceit did not
comfort her very much, and scalding tear-drops began to fall.

Tying up some other clothing into a little bundle, she opened the door
and listened. There was no noise in the house, and she crept downstairs
with a light tread. At the drawing-room she paused and took one last look
round at the place where she had spent so many exciting hours, and lived
through such various phases of life. While she stood on the threshold
there was a sound of heavy breathing. It came from the pug, which lay
coiled up on the sofa, asleep. Reproaching herself with having forgotten
the little thing, she took it up in her arms and hushed it when it awoke
and began to whine. Then she crept down to the front door, opened it
softly, passed out, and closed it after her. There was a click of the
lock in the silent gardens, and then no sound anywhere but the chirrup of
the sparrows in the eaves.

The sun was beginning to climb over the cool and q