ss Judy--I don't know whether it do or not. I
don't s'pose so for a quarter of a minute. Waterloo is miles from
here--that I do know. But it's nothing to us where Waterloo is, miss,
it's to Kensington Gardens we're going, and the 'bus has gone on now, so
there's no good our worrying ourselves about it. Another will pass us in
a minute. There are plenty half empty at this hour of the day."

"I wish you would stop talking, Susan, and let me explain what I mean,"
said Judy, almost fretfully. "It's to Waterloo I want to go, not to
Kensington Gardens. Do you hear me--do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I suppose you're joking me, Miss Judy. My missis said we were to go to
Kensington Gardens."

"Please, Susan, stop for a minute. I want to say something very
important. _I am going home._ That's the secret. I am going home to Aunt
Marjorie and to father, and my little sister Babs, and the way home is
by Waterloo, so I must get there. Now do you understand? That's the
secret--I am going home to-day."

Judy's face was so pale, and her words so intensely earnest, that Susan
saw at last that the secret was no joking matter, but something real and
hard to bear.

"Now I wonder what the little dear is up to," she said under her breath.

"You know, Miss Judy, pet," she replied aloud in as soothing a voice as
she could command, "that you don't really mean to run away like
that,--for it is running away to go back to your home, and never say a
word to Mrs. Quentyns, and she so wrapped up in you, and your room
furnished so prettily and all."

Judy had to gulp down a sob before she answered Susan.

"I didn't expect you to understand me," she said with a dignity which
made a deep impression on the maid. "I'm not running away, and I'm doing
right not wrong. You don't suppose it's always very pleasant to do
right, but sometimes one can't think about what's pleasant. I wouldn't
have asked you to help me at all, Susan, but I don't know how to get to
Waterloo Station. Of course I came from there with my sister, but I
didn't notice the road we took, nor anything about it. I know we were a
long time in a cab, so I suppose the station is a good way from Philippa
Terrace. What you have got to do now, Susan, is to obey me, and not to
ask any questions. I really know what I'm about, and I promise that you
shan't get into any trouble."

But to Judy's surprise Susan was firm.

"I won't have hand nor part in the matter," she said; "I was told