op a little."

"Why?" looking up surprised. "Oh, do you want to put something in? It
would be nicer. I'll leave half a sheet."

Harry looked the picture of vexation and perplexity. He had never
realized Bluebell's relations, and here it seemed she was in regular
correspondence with her mother and other friends.

"My dear girl, for goodness' sake stop! My uncle does not know it yet,
and you mustn't say a word to any one."

Bluebell seemed rather bewildered. "Why don't you tell your uncle, then?
And surely my mother would be equally interested!"

Dutton sat down for a long explanation, "I shouldn't so much have cared
about offending him before, but now I have you, Bluebell, it would be
ruin. I have nothing but my profession and what he allows me; and he
disinherited his only son for a marriage that displeased him."

She gave a half start here. "What is your uncle's name."

"Lord Bromley."

"Oh, of course; you told me so before. Well, go on."

"I shall run down to 'The Towers' presently, sound the old man, and break
it to him, if possible. If I could only take you, my darling, it ought to
do the business! By Jove, I have a great mind to try!"

"But," said Bluebell, reverting to her own immediate anxiety, "I must
tell them at home what has become of me. Fancy, Harry, what a state they
would be in, not hearing! Let me, at any rate, say I am married, but
cannot tell my name for a few weeks."

"Well, mind you don't say more," very gloomily. "I dare say there will be
no end of a row, and they will be sending people to try and trace us.
Impossible for a month, though," he reflected.

"And, Harry, did you write to Captain Davidson?"

He shook his head.

"Oh, do, pray, or let me!"

"Now, my dear Bluebell, haven't we just agreed the fewer people who know
it the better? You say you left a letter telling him you were to be
married, and it is no further business of his. Besides, he is a
suspicious old nuisance, and would very likely come boring down here; and
then I should be sure to quarrel with him. Come along, put on your hat,
and let us go out."

"I must re-write my letter," said she. It was much shorter than the other
one, and a sober look had dawned on her fair face when it was finished.

More than once she resumed the subject, but never got any satisfaction
from Dutton. "What did she want more? Could anything be jollier than the
life they were leading, with no one to bother them? Every one was alone
in the