en her own wish to go to London, they had never liked the idea. "You
would not believe, Joan, how dull the house is with only John and me in
it, we miss your singing and laughter about the place. Come back home,
dear; even if it is only for a holiday, we shall be delighted."

There was a hint behind the letter that unless she had a satisfactory
reply at once she or Uncle John would come up to London to see Joan for
themselves! Joan could imagine the agitation and yet firm purpose which
would preface the journey. She wrote hastily. She was perfectly happy
and ridiculously underworked. Everyone was so good to her, one day soon
she would take a day off and run down and see them, they should see how
well she was looking.

But the writing of the letter brought tears to her eyes, and when it was
sealed up and pushed safely out of harm's way she sat and cried and
cried. Once or twice lately she had had these storms of tears, she was
so unused to crying that she could not account for them in any way
except that she hated having to tell lies. That was it, she hated having
to tell lies.

It was about a fortnight later that Gilbert at breakfast one morning
looked up from a letter which the early post had brought him with a
frown of intense annoyance on his face. Also he said "Damn!" very
clearly and distinctly.

Joan pushed aside the paper and looked at him.

"Anything wrong?" she asked; "is it business, or money, or----"

"No, it is only the mater," he answered quickly; "she writes to say she
is coming to pay me a little visit, that I am to see if I can get her a
room somewhere in the building, she is going to spend two or three days
shopping in town and hopes to see a lot of me."

"Oh," said Joan rather blankly. Gilbert never talked very much of his
people; once he had shown her a photograph of his mother because she had
teased him till he produced it. "Don't you like the idea? Gilbert, was
that what you said 'damn' about?"

"Not exactly," his eyes travelled round the room; "you'll have to clear
out, you know," he said abruptly.

"You mean you want her to have our room and take another one in the
building for yourself?" asked Joan. "I daresay Mrs. Thomas would give me
a bed for a night or two."

"Yes, that is it," he agreed; "and you will have to hide away all traces
of yourself, mustn't leave anything suspicious lying about. The old lady
might have given me a day or two's notice;" he had returned to his
letter, "han