t once."

"I'm sorry we have kept you so long," remarked Mr. Shelmardine in a
tone of concern. "If she should be awake, what will the consequences
be?"

"Too terrible to think of," I answered seriously. "I'm sorry, Mr.
Shelmardine, but you mustn't come any further."

"_We_ will be here tomorrow afternoon," he said.

"Mr. Shelmardine!" I protested. "I wish you wouldn't put such ideas
into my head. They won't come out--no, not if I read a whole volume of
sermons right through."

We looked at each other for a second. Then he began to smile, and we
both went off into a peal of laughter.

"At least let me know if Miss Fiske rampages," he called after me as I
fled.

But Aunt Martha was not awake--and I have been to the shore three
afternoons since then. I was there today, and I'm going tomorrow for a
boat sail with Mr. Shelmardine and the Allardyces. But I am afraid the
former will do something rash soon. This afternoon he said: "I don't
think I can stand this much longer."

"Stand what?" I asked.

"You know very well," he answered recklessly. "Meeting you in this
clandestine manner, and thereby causing that poor little conscience of
yours such misery. If your aunt were not so--unreasonable, I should
never have stooped to it."

"It is all my fault," I said contritely.

"Well, I hardly meant that," he said grimly. "But hadn't I better go
frankly to your aunt and lay the whole case before her?"

"You would never see me again if you did that," I said hastily--and
then wished I hadn't.

"That is the worst threat you could make," he said.

July Twenty-fifth.

It is all over, and I am the most miserable girl in the world. Of
course this means that Aunt Martha has discovered everything and the
deserved punishment of my sins has overtaken me.

I slipped away again this afternoon and went for that boat sail. We
had a lovely time but were rather late getting in, and I hurried home
with many misgivings. Aunt Martha met me at the door.

My dress was draggled, my hat had slipped back, and the kinks and curls
of my obstreperous hair were something awful. I know I looked very
disreputable and also, no doubt, very guilty and conscience-stricken.
Aunt gave me an unutterable look and then followed me up to my room in
grim silence.

"Marguer_ite_, what does this mean?"

I have lots of faults, but untruthfulness isn't one of them. I
confessed everything--at least, almost