e
hand-claps. Crossing the stage to her dressing-room she met Koenig, who
came to conduct for her, and he said:

"Not quite yourself to-night, my dear, eh?"

Going home in the hansom, Polly's dog coddled up with the old sympathy to
the new mistress, and seemed to be making the best of things. The
household was asleep, and Glory let herself in with a latch-key. Her cold
supper was laid ready, and a letter was lying under the turned-down lamp.
It was from her grandfather, and had been written after church on Sunday
night:

"It is now so long--more than a year--since I saw my runaway and truant
that, notwithstanding the protests of Aunt Anna and the forebodings of
Aunt Rachel, I have determined to give my old legs a journey and my old
eyes a treat. Therefore take warning that I intend to come up to London
forthwith, that I may see the great city for the first time in my life,
and--which is better--my little granddaughter among all her new friends
and in the midst of her great prosperity."

At the foot of this there was a postscript from Aunt Rachel, hastily
scrawled in pencil:

"Take no notice of this. He is far too weak to travel, and indeed he is
really failing; but your letter, which reached us last night, has so
troubled him ever since that he can't take rest for thinking of it."

It was the last straw. Before finishing the letter or taking off her hat,
Glory took up a telegraph form and wrote, "Postpone journey--am returning
home to-morrow." Then she heard Koenig letting himself into the house,
and going downstairs she said:

"Will you take this message to the telegraph office for me, please?"

"Vhy, of course I vill, and den ve'll have supper togeder--look!" and he
laughed and opened a paper and drew out a string of sausages.

"Mr. Koenig," she said, "you were right. I was not myself to-night. I
want a rest, and I propose to take one."

As Glory returned upstairs she heard stammerings, sputterings, and
swearings behind her about managers, engagements, announcements,
geniuses, children, and other matters. Back in her room she lay down on
the floor, with her face in her hands, and sobbed. Then Koenig appeared,
panting and saying: "Dere! I knew vhat vould happen! Here's a pretty
ting! And dat's vhy Mr. Drake told me to deny you to de man. De brute, de
beast, de dirty son of a monk!"

But Glory had leaped up with eyes of fire, and was crying: "How dare you,
sir? Out of my room this instant!"

"Mein Gott! I