d up. You tell your good husband _that_ from me, who have
had experience, though without a family myself."

Milly wiped the tears away, and rose from her chair.

"I'll tell him," she said. "But--oh, there's no need: he takes an awful
lot of care of me, you've no idea! Why, it was he that said I had better
come to my grandmother while he was away: he knew that granny would take
care of me; and now, you see"--with hasty triumph--"he wants me home
again!"

She pocketed her handkerchief, and raised her head.

"I thought you said he had been abroad?" said Mrs. Bundlecombe.

"Of course I did, because he _has_ been abroad," the girl said, laughing
nervously. "But he's in London now. Well, good-bye, Mrs. Chigwin;
good-bye, Mrs. Bundlecombe; you'll go in and comfort granny a bit when
I'm gone, won't you? She's been fretting this morning about my going
away."

"Bless you, love," said Mrs. Chigwin. "I'll go in every day if you think
it will do her any good. And if you write to her, Milly, she'll be
pleased, I'm sure."

"I _will_ write," said Milly, in rather a shame-faced way. "I was so
busy--or I'd have written oftener. Good-bye."

She looked at them wistfully, as if reluctant to take her leave; and her
expression so wrought upon Mrs. Chigwin's feelings that she kissed the
girl's cheek affectionately.

"Good-bye, love," she said; "you know where to find us when you want us,
you know."

Milly departed, and the two friends remained silent until her light
figure had passed the window, and the click of the garden gate told them
that she was well out of hearing. Then Mrs. Chigwin began, in rather a
puzzled tone:

"You weren't very hearty with her, Elizabeth. You looked as if you had
something against her."

"I've this against her," said Mrs. Bundlecombe, smoothing down her black
apron with dignity, "that I believe there's something wrong about that
marriage, and that if I were Mrs. Harrington I wouldn't be satisfied
until I'd seen her marriage lines."

"Perhaps she has seen them," said Mrs. Chigwin, the pacific. "And we've
nothing to go upon, Bessy, and I'm sure the idea would never have
entered my head but for you."

"Why did she burst out crying when you talked of her husband and
children coming down here?" asked Mrs. Bundlecombe, acutely. "It may be
that she isn't to blame; but there's something wrong somewhere. She's
hurried and flurried and worried."

And this was true. The summons which Milly had received was