if
necessary.

"That's one thing; and the next is this: I'd rather like to
have some news about my people, and for them to know (if they
want to know--I leave that to you) that I'm getting on all
right. I haven't heard a word about them since August. I know
nothing particular can have happened, because I always look at
the papers--but I should like to know what's going on
generally.

"I think that's about all. I am getting on excellently myself,
and hope you are. I am afraid there's no chance of my coming to
you for Christmas. I suppose you'll be home again by now.

"Ever yours,
"F.G."

"P.S.--Of course you'll keep all this private--as well as where
I'm living."

Now this letter seems to me rather interesting from a psychological
point of view. It is extremely business-like, but perfectly unpractical.
Frank states what he wants, but he wants an absurd impossibility. I like
Jack Kirkby very much, but I cannot picture him as likely to be
successful in helping to restore a strayed girl to her people. I suppose
Frank's only excuse is that he did not know whom else to write to.

It is rather interesting, too, to notice his desire to know what is
going on at his home; it seems as if he must have had, some faint
inkling that something important was about to happen, and this is
interesting in view of what now followed immediately.

He directed his letter, stamped it, and posted it in the library
post-box in the vestibule. Then, cap in hand, he pushed open the
swing-doors and ran straight into Mr. Parham-Carter.

"Hullo!" said that clergyman--and went a little white.

"Hullo!" said Frank; and then: "What's the matter?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going back to the jam factory."

"May I walk with you?"

"Certainly, if you don't mind my eating as I go along."

The clergyman turned with him and went beside him in silence, as Frank,
drawing out of his side-pocket a large hunch of bread and cheese,
wrapped up in the advertisement sheet of the _Daily Mail_, began to fill
his mouth.

"I want to know if you've had any news from home."

Frank turned to him slightly.

"No," he said sharply, after a pause.

Mr. Parham-Carter licked his lips.

"Well--no, it isn't bad news; but I wondered whether--"

"What is it?"

"Your governor's married again. It happened