quite right, Lydia: my character
requires kindness, sympathy and a latch-key--especially requires a
latch-key."

"Especially requires a fiddlestick!" said Lydia; and, disregarding his
smiling "Not at all," she went on in an injured tone: "There's ma
worrying over accounts, and likely to worry for the next hour. How am I
to get a key from under her very nose?"

Lisle seemed to reflect: "Old Fordham doesn't have one, I suppose."

"Gracious! No, not he! If you gave him one he'd drop it as if it was red
hot. He thinks they're wicked."

There was a pause, but after a few moments there stole through the
silence a sweetly insinuating voice: "Then, Lydia--"

Lydia half turned away and put up her left shoulder.

"Then, Lydia, I suppose you wouldn't--"

"You'd better keep on supposing I wouldn't."

"Can't suppose such cruelty for more than a moment--can't really. No,
listen to me"--this with a change of voice: "I must go out this evening.
Upon my soul, it's important. I'm in a fix, Lydia. I've not breathed a
word to any one else, and wouldn't for worlds, but you'll not let it
out, I know. If I'm lucky enough to get out of the scrape to-night, I'll
never get into it again, I can tell you."

"You will," said Lydia.

"I swear I won't. And if not--"

"Well? if not?"

"Why, I must try another plan to get free. I sha'n't like it, but I
must. But there'll be a row, and I shall have to go away. I'd a good
deal rather not."

"What sort of plan?" she asked curiously.

"Desperate," he answered, and shook his head.

"What is it?" Her eyes were widely opened in excitement and alarm. "You
ain't going to be driven to forge something, like people in novels?
Or--or--it isn't a big robbery, is it? Oh, you wouldn't!"

The face opposite looked so smiling and candid and innocent that it made
the words she had hazarded an obvious absurdity, even to herself, as
soon as she had uttered them.

"Why not a murder?" said Lisle. "I think it shall be a murder. Upon my
word, you're complimentary! No, no, I don't mean to try my hand at any
of them." She smiled, relieved. "But I must go out to-night. Lydia, will
you let me in once more?"

"Once more? You won't ask again?"

"Never again."

There was a pause: "Didn't you say that last time?"

"Lydia, you are the unkindest girl--"

"Well, then, I will."

"No, you are the kindest."

"Just this once more. Mind, you tap very gently, and I'll be awake. But
do be careful. It frightens me