orious summer morning; but at
so early an hour--not yet five o'clock--the air was cool. Exercise,
however, soon revived Rosamund, and she lost that feeling of chill and
fatigue which had made the latter part of the night so unpleasant to
her. As to Irene, she was as fresh as a young bird, and the pranks she
played, and the somersaults she turned, and the extraordinary manner in
which she went on would have terrified many girls, although Rosamund
scarcely noticed them. She had already discovered that Irene's bark was
worse than her bite, and the best plan was to let her alone and not to
take too much notice of her vagaries.

The two girls parted at the gates of The Follies, Irene assuring
Rosamund that she was going to lay all sorts of traps for the servants
during the next couple of hours.

"I shall have great fun," she said. "They have been more than usually
troublesome lately, and I want every one to go, so that we can have a
fresh batch in their places when you come, darling; for you will come--I
know you will--early next week. And, Rose, I will even be a little bit
good for you."

There was a suspicion of tears in the wild, star-like eyes, and then the
queer little creature flashed out of sight.

Rosamund stood still for a minute with her hand to her forehead. She
then slowly retraced her steps. She was so lost in thought that she did
not notice the milkman as he rattled along with his cart; nor did she
notice the doctor, who passed in his gig, driving rapidly back to
Dartford. He, however, stared very hard at the good-looking girl,
evidently a lady, who was out all alone at that early hour.

By-and-by Rosamund got back to Sunnyside. She climbed up the ivy and
wistaria and re-entered her own room. She carefully shut the window,
unlocked her door, undressed, and got into bed. Her first impulse had
been to tell the whole story of her night's adventure to Professor
Merriman; for she felt that, stern as he could be, there was also
something gentle about him, and he would certainly understand her. But
on second thought the desire to confide in him passed out of sight, more
particularly as there was a noise and confusion--a sort of stifled
confusion--in the house: people hurrying backwards and forwards, and
voices sunk to whispers, which came sometimes to Rosamund's ears, and
sometimes receded in the distance.

By-and-by she looked at her watch and saw that it was half-past seven,
the usual hour for the girls to ge