. This being the first of your twenty-one
that you have spent from home, I will be thinking of you all the day
through, and when night comes, and I smoke a pipe by the study fire, I
know I shall be leaving the blind up that I may see the evening star and
remember the happy birthdays long ago, when somebody, who was so petted
and spoiled, used to say she had just come down from it, having dressed
herself in some strange and grand disguises, and told us she was
Phonodoree the fairy. You will be better employed than that, Glory, and
as long as my dear one is well and happy and prosperous in the great city
where she so loves to be----"

The candle was shaking in Glory's hands, and the little half-lit bedroom
seemed to be blinking in and out.

Aunt Anna had added a postscript: "Glad to hear you are enjoying yourself
in London, but rather alarmed at your frequent mention of theatres. Take
care you don't go too often, child, and mind you send us the name of the
vicar of the parish you are living in, for I certainly think grandfather
ought to write to him."

To this again there was a footnote by Aunt Rachel: "You say nothing of
Mr. Drake nowadays. Is he one of Mrs. Jupe's visitors? And is it he who
takes you to theatres?"

Then there was a New Year's card enclosed, having a picture of an Eastern
shepherd at the head of his flock of sheep and bearing the inscription,
"Follow in his footsteps."

But the hissing sound of Mrs. Jupe's voice came up from below, and
Glory's tears were dried in an instant. On going downstairs, she found
Aggie in her mock sealskin and big black feathers sitting in the parlour
at the back of the shop, and Mrs. Jupe talking to her in whispers, with
an appearance of knowledge and familiarity. She caught the confused look
of the one and the stealthy glances of the other, and the hard lump at
her heart grew harder.

"Come on," said Glory, and a few minutes afterward the girls were walking
toward Soho. The little chapels in the quieter streets were dropping out
their driblets of people and the lights in the church windows were being
extinguished one by one. Aggie had recovered her composure, and was
talking of Charlie as she skipped along with a rapid step, swinging her
stage-box by her side. Charlie was certain to be at one of the clubs, and
he would be sure to see them home. He wasn't out of his time yet, and
that was why her father wouldn't allow him about. But he was in an office
at a foundry, and