her to deal with, sat
for a moment motionless in Susy's hold. Then she freed her wrists with
an adroit twist, and leaning back against the pillows said judiciously:
"You'll never in the world bring up a family of your own if you take on
like this over other people's children."

Through all her turmoil of spirit the observation drew a laugh from
Susy. "Oh, a family of my own--I don't deserve one, the way I'm behaving
to your--"

Junie still considered her. "My dear, a change will do you good: you
need it," she pronounced.

Susy rose with a laughing sigh. "I'm not at all sure it will! But I've
got to have it, all the same. Only I do feel anxious--and I can't even
leave you my address!"

Junie still seemed to examine the case.

"Can't you even tell me where you're going?" she ventured, as if not
quite sure of the delicacy of asking.

"Well--no, I don't think I can; not till I get back. Besides, even if
I could it wouldn't be much use, because I couldn't give you my address
there. I don't know what it will be."

"But what does it matter, if you're coming back to-night?"

"Of course I'm coming back! How could you possibly imagine I should
think of leaving you for more than a day?"

"Oh, I shouldn't be afraid--not much, that is, with the poker, and Nat's
water-pistol," emended Junie, still judicious.

Susy again enfolded her vehemently, and then turned to more practical
matters. She explained that she wished if possible to catch an
eight-thirty train from the Gare de Lyon, and that there was not a
moment to lose if the children were to be dressed and fed, and full
instructions written out for Junie and Angele, before she rushed for the
underground.

While she bathed Geordie, and then hurried into her own clothes, she
could not help wondering at her own extreme solicitude for her charges.
She remembered, with a pang, how often she had deserted Clarissa
Vanderlyn for the whole day, and even for two or three in
succession--poor little Clarissa, whom she knew to be so unprotected,
so exposed to evil influences. She had been too much absorbed in her own
greedy bliss to be more than intermittently aware of the child; but now,
she felt, no sorrow however ravaging, no happiness however absorbing,
would ever again isolate her from her kind.

And then these children were so different! The exquisite Clarissa was
already the predestined victim of her surroundings: her budding soul
was divided from Susy's by the same barr