hat on her--and her
curls flying behind her--an'--an'--'pon my word, I could hardly stop
her But we met a little girl with a goat, an' we stroked the
goat--eh, stroked the goat--an' that comforted her a bit.

Mrs. Denham.

But where was she going?

Fitzgerald.

Oh, that's the cream o' the joke! I had a great piece of work to get
out of her what ailed her, an'--an'--would you believe it?--that
Undine of yours--that Undine of yours was going back to her native
element. The--the mite was looking for the Thames, to drown herself!

Mrs. Denham.

To drown herself?

Fitzgerald.

Ay. She told me, "Mother said--said she was too wicked to live--an'
she--she didn't want her any more." By Jove! Mrs. Denham, you must
be careful what you say to that imp. She'll take you at your
word--eh?

Mrs. Denham.

How can we ever thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald?

Denham.

Well, we can laugh at it now; but it was rather a ghastly bit of
tragi-comedy. A thousand thanks, Fitz, old fellow!

Fitzgerald.

Well, I hope she's none the worse for it. I carried her home on my
back; an' I can tell you her heart was beating like--like the heart
of a hunted mouse. I must be off, Arthur; I have a model coming.
You'll bring the drawing round, eh? I must have it by five o'clock.

Denham.

I have about ten minutes' work on the background--the figures are
all right. I'll bring it round just now.

Fitzgerald.

All right. Good-bye. (_Shakes hands, and exit._)

Denham.

Stay here, Constance. I'll bring the child to you.

(_Exit, following Fitzgerald._)

Mrs. Denham.

Undine, my little Undine! Have I been a bad mother to you? And I
have tried to do right. Oh, how I have tried! All in vain--all in
vain. (_Paces up and down, then sits listlessly on the sofa._) Utter
wreck! Utter wreck! Utter failure in everything!

(_Re-enter Denham, with Undine. Mrs. Denham starts up._)

Denham.

Here's our little truant come back to mother.

(_Undine comes down the stage slowly, looking dazed. Mrs. Denham
embraces the child passionately._)

Mrs. Denham.

My little Undine! My little girl! Did she think mother wanted to get
rid of her?

Undine.

(_with sorrowful indignation_) You said you wished I was dead, and I
thought you didn't want me any more. I thought perhaps you were
going to kill me with a knife, like Medea, and I didn't like that. I
thought the river would be kinder.

Mrs. Denham.

That was foolish, Undine. Mother would not kill h