am beginning to be afraid
you are going to get yourself into serious trouble."

Then this overgrown baby of theirs, who had so suddenly astonished
them all by dropping her babyhood and asserting herself a woman, said
something so startling that the wise one fairly lost her breath.

"If I cannot get what I want," she said, deliberately, "I will take what
I can get."

"You are going out of your mind," ejaculated Aimee.

"It does n't matter if I am," cried the romantic little goose,
positively crushing the oracle by breaking down all at once, and
flinging herself upon the hearthrug in a burst of tears,--"it does n't
matter if I am. Who cares for _me_?"

CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD.

THEEE weeks waited the wise one, keeping her eyes on the alert and her
small brain busy, but preserving an owl-like silence upon the subject
revolving in her mind. But at the end of that time she marched into the
parlor one day, attired for a walk, and astonished them all by gravely
announcing her intention of going to see Dolly.

"What are you going for?" said Mrs. Phil.

"Rather sudden, is n't it?" commented Mollie.

"I 'm going on business," returned Aimee, and she buttoned her gloves
and took her departure, without enlightening them further.

Arriving at Brabazon Lodge, she found Miss Mac-Dowlas out and Dolly
sitting alone in the parlor, with a letter from Griffith in her hand and
tears in her eyes.

Her visitor walked to the hearth, her face wrinkling portentously, and
kissed her with an air of affectionate severity.

"I don't know," she began, comprehending matters at a glance, "I am sure
I don't know what I am to do with you all. _You_ are in trouble now."

"Take off your things," said Dolly, with a helpless little sob,
"and--and then I will tell you all about it. You must stay and have
tea with me. Miss MacDowlas is away, and I--am all alone, and--and, O
Aimee!"

The hat and jacket were laid aside in two minutes, and Aimee came back
to her and knelt down.

"Is there anything in your letter you do not want me to see?" she asked.

"No," answered Dolly, in despair, and tossed it into her lap.

It was no new story, but this time the Fates seemed to have conspired
against her more maliciously than usual. A few days before Grif had
found himself terribly dashed in spirit, and under the influence of
impulse had written to her. Two or three times in one day he had heard
accidental comm