verybody asking her who she's writing to. She's only seventeen.
She has the morning postman for a young man now, and probably one or two
others that I don't know of. And she has money and she buys her own
clothes. She's a very naughty, wicked girl, and I wish I was in her place.
She scorns me, naturally. Who wouldn't?"

Miss Ingate said not a word. She merely sat with her hands in the lap of
her spotted pale-blue dress, faintly and sadly smiling.

Audrey burst out:

"Miss Ingate, what can I do? I must do something. What can I do?"

Miss Ingate shook her head, and put her lips tightly together, while
mechanically smoothing the sides of her grey coat.

"I don't know," she said. "It beats me."

"Then _I'll_ tell you what I can do!" answered Audrey firmly, wriggling
somewhat nearer to her along the floor. "And what I shall do."

"What?"

"Will you promise to keep it a secret?"

Miss Ingate nodded, smiling and showing her teeth. Her broad polished
forehead positively shone with kindly eagerness.

"Will you swear?"

Miss Ingate hesitated, and then nodded again.

"Then put your hand on my head and say, 'I swear.'"

Miss Ingate obeyed.

"I shall leave this house," said Audrey in a low voice.

"You won't, Audrey!"

"I'll eat my hand off if I've not left this house by to-morrow, anyway."

"To-morrow!" Miss Ingate nearly screamed. "Now, Audrey, do reflect. Think
what you are!"

Audrey bounded to her feet.

"That's what father's always saying," she exploded angrily. "He's always
telling me to examine myself. The fact is, I know too much about myself. I
know exactly the kind of girl it is who's going to leave this house.
Exactly!"

"Audrey, you frighten me. Where are you going to?"

"London."

"Oh! That's all right then. I am relieved. I thought perhaps you waited to
come to _my_ house. You won't get to London, because you haven't any
money."

"Oh, yes, I have. I've got a hundred pounds."

"Where?"

"Remember, you've sworn.... Here!" she cried suddenly, and drawing her hand
from behind her back she most sensationally displayed a crushed roll of
bank-notes.

"And who did you get those from?"

"I didn't get them from anybody. I got them out of father's safe. They're
his reserve. He keeps them right at the back of the left-hand drawer, and
he's so sure they're there that he never looks for them. He thinks he's a
perfect model, but really he's careless. There's a duplicate key to the
safe, you know,