nt of his movements. He did
not know whether the Greyhound had gone up or down the river; and he
had no boat in which to follow her.

Fanny felt that she had won a victory, for she did not realize that
success in a wicked cause is failure and defeat. She congratulated
herself on the feat she had accomplished, and she was vain enough to
boast to her associate of what she had done; of her skill in managing
the boat, and her shrewdness in planning the enterprise; and it is
quite certain that if she had been less resolute and courageous, the
expedition would have ended in failure almost at the beginning.

"But you haven't told me what you are going to do yet," said Kate, when
she had sponged out the bottom of the well, dried the seats in the
standing-room, and taken her place by the side of Fanny.

"I will tell you now," replied Fanny. "What do you suppose your father
will do to you when he finds out that you played truant, and went on
the river with me?" she added, apparently, but not really, avoiding the
subject.

"He'll kill me!" answered Kate, with emphasis.

"No, he won't."

"I don't know what he will do, then."

"He will punish you in some way--won't he?"

"Yes. I don't know what he will do."

"Well, Kate, we must bring him to terms," added Fanny, with the most
impudent assurance. "If you will mind what I say, he will not punish
you at all. Will you do it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know! Do you want to go back and be whipped like a baby, be
shut up for a week, or something of that kind?"

"Of course I don't."

"And I will tell you how to get rid of all these things, and make your
father as glad to see you as though you had been a good little girl all
your life, and had been away on a long journey."

"How?"

"That's telling!"

"You said you would tell me."

"And so I will, if you are strong enough to bear it."

"Well, I am."

"Don't go home for a week or ten days. Your folks won't know where you
are. When they find out you went with me in a boat, they will think you
are drowned; and when you go back, they will be so glad to see you that
they won't say a word."

It would have been impossible for a girl who had been brought up by a
loving mother to conceive of such a cold-blooded and diabolical
proposition. Fanny had no mother, no father. Even the remembrance of
the former had passed from her mind; and her father, while he was
living, had been away from her so much that she hardly knew him