accused: "Why, you didn't tell me _she_ wasn't to look at
the papers!"

"I've seen the name, 'Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald,'" the detestable girl
went on, pushing into the room without asking permission. "She's going
to 'open,' as the paper expresses it, in a new play called 'The Nelly
Affair,' on Monday night at the Lyceum Theatre. Next Monday! Nearly a
week from now! How can I wait--what shall I do till then?"

It was to Somerled that she appealed. She made him feel that the
responsibility was his. And it was a bad moment to feel this, because of
Mrs. West's telegram from Grandma. He got up from the sofa, still
jingling the money in his pockets. Looking down at Aline he saw only her
profile and an ear as deeply pink as coral under a loop of blond hair.
Evidently she too was feeling the situation. Good of her to take an
interest! She really was good. She had asked his advice. Now he would
ask hers.

"Mrs. West and I will talk over a plan I have for you," he said to the
girl.

"Is it your plan--or hers?" asked Barrie anxiously.

"It will be both by the time you hear it," he answered, with a
reassuring smile.

Aline humoured him. "Run away and play, little girl, till the plan is
cooked," she gayly cried. "Play with my brother."

Barrie backed out, feeling as if she had been half smothered with a
perfumed pillow.

"Do you guess my plan?" asked Ian.

"I wonder?" Aline murmured. She could not have spoken aloud just then.

"It's this. Why shouldn't we take her with us in the car to Edinburgh?
We've lots of room."

She had known that this would come. All she had done had only hastened
the catastrophe. "That poor old lady," she stammered. "I can't help
sympathizing--being a little sorry for her. Isn't she, then, to be
considered--after bringing up the girl?"

"You think," he said reflectively, "that she ought to be consulted?"

"Oh, I do!"

"Very well. Then I'll go and have it out with her myself."

"The telegram!" thought Mrs. West, her ears more coraline than ever.
"After all," she faltered, "perhaps it would bring about complications.
She might resort to--to something legal. Fancy if she sent the police to
get back her granddaughter."

Somerled laughed and said nothing. He was not in a mood for argument.

"He won't go," Aline thought. "Thank Heaven, he hates bother."

This was true of Somerled as a rule; but his rules had exceptions.

VIII

So this was the garden where that strange flower of