ad yet found a
Gretchen.

'No,' she answered, in a gloomy voice. 'All slatterns, my dear; all
slatterns! Brought up in pig-sties. I wouldn't let one of them touch my
hair for thousands.'

'That's unfortunate,' I said, drily, 'for you know I'm going to-morrow.'

If I had dropped a bomb in their midst they couldn't have looked more
astonished. 'To-morrow?' Lady Georgina gasped, clutching my arm. 'You
don't mean it, child; you don't mean it?'

I asserted my Ego. 'Certainly,' I answered, with my coolest air. 'I said
I thought I could manage you for a week; and I have managed you.'

She almost burst into tears. 'But, my child, my child, what shall I do
without you?'

'The unsophisticated Gretchen,' I answered, trying not to look
concerned; for in my heart of hearts, in spite of her innuendoes, I had
really grown rather to like the Cantankerous Old Lady.

She rose hastily from the table, and darted up to her own room. 'Lois,'
she said, as she rose, in a curious voice of mingled regret and
suspicion, 'I will talk to you about this later.' I could see she was
not quite satisfied in her own mind whether Harold Tillington and I had
not arranged this _coup_ together.

I put on my hat and strolled off into the garden, and then along the
mossy hill path. In a minute more, Harold Tillington was beside me.

He seated me, half against my will, on a rustic bench. 'Look here, Miss
Cayley,' he said, with a very earnest face; 'is this really true? Are
you going to-morrow?'

My voice trembled a little. 'Yes,' I answered, biting my lip. 'I am
going. I see several reasons why I should go, Mr. Tillington.'

'But so soon?'

'Yes, I think so; the sooner the better.' My heart was racing now, and
his eyes pleaded mutely.

'Then where are you going?'

I shrugged my shoulders, and pouted my lips a little. 'I don't know,' I
replied. 'The world is all before me where to choose. I am an
adventuress,' I said it boldly, 'and I am in quest of adventures. I
really have not yet given a thought to my next place of sojourn.'

'But you will let me know when you have decided?'

It was time to speak out. 'No, Mr. Tillington,' I said, with decision.
'I will _not_ let you know. One of my reasons for going is, that I think
I had better see no more of you.'

He flung himself on the bench at my side, and folded his hands in a
helpless attitude. 'But, Miss Cayley,' he cried, 'this is so short a
notice; you give a fellow no chance; I hoped I might