the vivid face
under the knitted tam.

"I suppose, if you don't know her very well, she never spoke to you
about having a daughter?" Barrie asked.

"No, she never spoke of it. But look here, Miss MacDonald, as I happen
to be an acquaintance--I daren't call myself a friend--of your mother's,
you'd better let me advise you a little, without thinking that I'm
taking a liberty. From what you say, I have the idea that you've not had
time to write Mrs. Bal--I mean, Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald that you're
coming to pay her a visit."

"No, I only made up my mind to-day," said Barrie carefully. "Grandma and
she aren't good friends, so my mother and I--don't write to each other.
Grandma doesn't like the stage, and as you know mother, I don't mind
telling you she's been perfectly horrid--Grandma, I mean. She let me
believe that mother was dead--just because she's an actress, which I
think must be splendid. That's why I'm running away, and wild horses
couldn't drag me back."

"I see. Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald will be taken by surprise when you
turn up."

"Yes. It will be like things I've dreamed about and invented to make
into story-books--really interesting story-books such as Grandma
wouldn't let me read, for she approves only of Hannah More. Won't mother
be delighted?"

"Just at first her surprise may overcome her natural joy," said the man.
"And here is where my advice comes in. It's this: Let the news be broken
to your mother before you try to see her. That would be the wisest
thing. Besides, she mayn't be in London now--probably isn't. It's past
the season there; and Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald is one of those
beautiful and successful people, you know, who are generally found at
places in the most fashionable time of the year. If she's acting, it
will be easy to find out where she is from one of the stage papers. She
could be written to, and----"

"No, I _want_ to surprise her!" Barrie persisted. "I want first to see
her, for I know she must be a darling and perfectly lovely; and then I
want to say, 'Mother, here's your daughter Barribel, that you named
yourself, come to love you and live with you always.'"

"Er--yes. It sounds charming," replied the man, gazing at a large
advertisement of a new food with quite an odd look in his eyes. "If your
heart's set on that scene I've no right to try and dissuade you; but
anyhow, the thing to do is to find out where she is before you start,
for you might get to London only to ha