l, and I found this on the bureau."

Winifred caught at the paper and read it breathlessly. It was
addressed to herself.

"Good-by," it said, "and thank you for taking me in. I suppose I ought
to be very grateful. I came here because I could not help it, and I am
going away without taking a meal, or sleeping in your bed. I don't
like being taken on charity. If it had not been for you, Mr. Flint
might have cared for me, same as the hero did in 'The Unequal
Marriage.' I saw last night it was you he was talking about when he
said there was somebody he wanted to marry who wouldn't have him. My
heart is broken; but I mean to have _some_ enjoyment, which I
couldn't, if I stayed here with you and that poky Miss Standish. I
think it was real mean of Mr. Flint to bring me here anyhow."

Yours truly,
"MATILDA MARSDEN"

She tossed the letter across the table to Miss Standish, and touched
the bell under her foot.

"McGregor," she said, as the man appeared, "did you hear any one go
out of the house this morning?"

"I thought I did, Miss Winifred, about six o'clock, before
light,--that is, I was justly sure I heard the front door shut; but
when I got there it was all right, except the outer door was unlocked,
and that often happens when your father is at the Club. He do forget
now and then."

"Three hours' start!" said Winifred to herself, then aloud: "McGregor,
go at once to 'The Chancellor' and leave word for Mr. Flint to come
here. Wait--I will send a note. Oh dear! why didn't I foresee this
possibility?"

"Come!" said Miss Standish, who, even in her excitement, could swallow
the last of her cup of hot coffee,--"come, let us go upstairs and see
if the foolish girl has not left some clew!"

As Winifred and Miss Standish passed out at the parlor door, Master
Jimmy entered from the hall, sleek and smiling in his holiday attire.
"Great Scott!" he ejaculated. "What started Miss Standish off like
that? Our stairs make the old lady puff when she takes 'em on the
slow, and at this rate Fred will have to carry her half-way.
Something's up, that's evident. Never mind, I'm not in it. McGregor,"
he called, "bring on those griddle-cakes; I smell 'em cooking. Quick
now, while there's no one here to count how many I eat! Hurrah for
Thanksgiving!"

McGregor failed to appear at Master Jimmy's call, and when Maria came,
she said he had been sent out on an errand.

"What's up?" asked Jim