happened to come into money"--my aunt spoke
the very word as who should say "Dross!"--and concluded: "She is
scarcely a person of whom you can make a friend."

"Million has always been a very staunch little friend of mine ever since
she came here," I said, not without heat. "But I am going to this hostel
of hers to ask her about something that has nothing to do with
'friendship.' You have her address. You know that it's a deadly
respectable place. I expect I shall stay the night there, Aunt
Anastasia. Good-bye." And off I went.

I was full of my new plan--a plan that seemed to have flashed full-blown
into my brain while I was putting on my boots.

It had made me almost breathless with excitement and anticipation by the
time I had rung the bell of the massive, maroon-painted door of the
Kensington address and had said to the bored-looking man-servant who
opened it: "May I see Miss Million, please?"

Such a plan it was as I had to unfold to her!

There was something odd and unfamiliar about the appearance of Million
when she ran in to greet me in her new setting--the very Early
Victorian, plushy, marble-mantelpieced, glass-cased drawing-room of the
Ladies' Hostelry in Kensington.

What was the unfamiliar note? She wore her Sunday blouse of white Jap
silk; her brown cloth skirt that dipped a little at the back. But what
was it that made her look so strange? Ah! I knew. It was so funny to see
our late maid-of-all-work in the house without a cap on!

This incongruous thought dashed through my mind as quickly as Million
herself dashed over the crimson carpet towards me.

"Miss Beatrice! Lor'! Doesn't it seem ages since I seen you, and yet
it's only this very morning since I left your aunt's. Well, this is a
treat," she cried, holding out both of her little work-roughened hands.
"It is nice, seein' some one you know, after the lot of old cats, and
sketches, and freaks, and frosty-faces that live in this establishment!"

And the new heiress gave herself a little shake as she glanced round the
spacious, gloomy apartment that we had for the moment to ourselves.
Evidently Million found the Kensington "haven" recommended by her lawyer
no change for the better from our Putney villa. Under the circumstances,
and because of my plan, I felt rather glad of this.

I said: "Don't you like the place, then, Million? What are the people
like?"

"Only one word to describe 'em, Miss Beatrice. Chronic. Fair give you
ther hump. None