everything. I didn't tell about
the telescopes and deaf-mute alphabet, and Aunt was too
horror-stricken to think of asking how I first made Mr. Shelmardine's
acquaintance. She listened in stony silence. I had expected a terrible
scolding, but I suppose my crimes simply seemed to her too enormous
for words.

When I had sobbed out my last word she rose, swept me one glance of
withering contempt, and left the room. Presently Mrs. Saxby came up,
looking concerned.

"My dear child, what have you been doing? Your aunt says that we are
to go home on the afternoon train tomorrow. She is terribly upset."

I just curled up on the bed and cried, while Mrs. Saxby packed my
trunk. I will have no chance to explain matters to Mr. Shelmardine.
And I will never see him again, for Aunt is quite capable of whisking
me off to Africa. He will just think me a feather-brained flirt. Oh, I
am so unhappy!

July Twenty-sixth.

I am the happiest girl in the world! That is quite a different strain
from yesterday. We leave Fir Cottage in an hour, but that doesn't
matter now.

I did not sleep a wink last night and crawled miserably down to
breakfast. Aunt took not the slightest notice of me, but to my
surprise she told Mrs. Saxby that she intended taking a farewell walk
to the shore. I knew I would be taken, too, to be kept out of
mischief, and my heart gave a great bound of hope. Perhaps I would
have a chance to send word to Francis, since Aunt did not know of the
part my spyglass had played in my bad behaviour.

I meekly followed my grim guardians to the shore and sat dejectedly on
my rug while they paced the sand. Francis was on the rocks. As soon as
Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby were at a safe distance, I began my
message: "All discovered. Aunt is very angry. We go home today."

Then I snatched my glass. His face expressed the direst consternation
and dismay. He signalled: "I must see you before you go."

"Impossible. Aunt will never forgive me. Good-bye."

I saw a look of desperate determination cross his face. If forty Aunt
Marthas had swooped down upon me, I could not have torn my eyes from
that glass.

"I love you. You know it. Do you care for me? I must have my answer
now."

What a situation! No time or chance for any maidenly hesitation or
softening aureole of words. Aunt and Mrs. Saxby had almost reached the
point where they invariably turned. I had barely time to spell out a