es.

"She's a cross girl," he observed calmly, as he marched along beside
Mary, "but we don't care, do we?"

"_No_, we _don't_," came emphatically from Mary's lips. And she meant
it.

CHAPTER XXII

FACE TO FACE WITH HERSELF

Although Mary Raymond had deliberately snapped the chain that bound her
to Mignon La Salle, she now found herself confronted by a far more
difficult task. How was she to return little Charlie to Gray Gables
without meeting Constance Stevens or another member of her family? It
was not yet nine o'clock. It was, therefore, barely possible that
Charlie had not been missed. Perhaps Constance and her aunt were not at
home. It stood to reason that if they had been, Charlie would never have
succeeded in slipping away and following John Roland to his evening's
assignment.

Once outside the La Salle's gate, Mary paused uncertainly. Charlie
tugged impatiently at her hand. "Come on, Mary. Take Charlie home," he
demanded.

Apparently unmindful of the child's presence, Mary stood still, staring
thoughtfully up and down the moonlit street. It was an unusually mild
night for that time of year, and the ground was bare of snow. March was
in a deceptive, springlike mood, smiling and sunny by day, with the
merest touch of snappiness by night. Nevertheless, it was scarcely an
occasion for a walk in thin kid slippers and silk stockings, and Mary
shivered slightly as she stood there trying to decide what was to be
done.

"Listen to Mary, Charlie boy," she began suddenly, bending down and
looking seriously into the child's bright, black eyes. "Where were
Connie and Auntie when you ran away?"

"_They_ runned away from Charlie," was the prompt reply, given with an
aggrieved pout. "Charlie wanted to go, too, and Connie said 'no.' They
wented to the the'ter where the band plays all the time."

"And where was nurse?"

"She wented away, too, but Connie didn't know it. She thought Charlie
didn't know, either. But she told Bessie, and Charlie heard."

"So, that is the reason," murmured Mary. Then she said to Charlie, "If
Mary takes you home will you promise her something?"

"Yes," nodded Charlie.

"Then promise Mary that you won't tell anyone you ran away, or that Mary
brought you home."

"Aren't you going to tell Connie that Charlie was a naughty boy?" came
the anxious question.

"No, not unless someone sees Charlie when he goes home and asks about
it."

"Then Charlie won't tell, either," was the