hen went away. "Stuck-up thing!"
she exclaimed as soon as she was safe in the passage. "But what has he
been doing? Oh, I must and will know!"

Percival returned before Judith's time had expired, and came into the room
with a grave face and eyes that would not meet hers.

"Tell me," she said.

He turned away and studied a colored lithograph on the wall. "It wasn't
true," he said. "Gordon was at the last practicing, but he never said a
word about this organist's situation. In fact, Bertie left before the
choir separated."

"Some one else might have told him," said Judith.

There was a pause. "I fear not," said Percival, intently examining a very
blue church-spire in one corner of the picture. "In fact, Miss Lisle, I
don't see how any one could. There is no vacancy for an organist
there--no prospect of any vacancy. I ascertained that."

Another pause, a much longer one. Percival had turned away from the
lithograph, but now he was looking at a threadbare place in the carpet as
thoughtfully as if he would have to pay for a new one. He touched it
lightly with his foot, and perceived that it would soon wear into a hole.

"I must go back to Miss Crawford," said Judith suddenly. He bent his head
in silent acquiescence. "What am I to tell her?" She lifted a book from
the table, and laid it down again with a quivering hand. "Oh, it is too
cruel!" she said in a low voice. "No one could expect it of me. My own
brother!"

"That's true. No one could expect it."

"And yet--" said Judith. "Miss Crawford--Emmeline. Oh, Mr. Thorne, tell me
what I ought to do."

"How can I? I don't know what to say. Why do you attempt to decide now?
You may safely leave it till the time comes."

"Safely?"

"Yes. You will not do less than your duty."

She hesitated, having a woman's craving for something to which she might
cling, something definite and settled. "It is not certain," she said at
last.

"No," he answered. "Bertie has deceived you, but it may be for some
foolish scheme of his own. He may be guiltless of this: it is only a
suspicion still."

"Well, I will go," said Judith again. "Oh, if only he had come home!"

"There is a choir-practice to-night," said Percival. "If all is well he
will be back in time for that. They have no doubt of his coming. Why not
leave a note?"

She took a sheet of paper and wrote on it--

"MY DEAREST BROTHER:" ("If he comes back he will be best and dearest," she
thought as she wrote. It had come