lked into the dining-room, cut a thick slice
from a home-made loaf of bread, broke off a small piece to eat at once,
and put the rest into her pocket. A dish of apples stood near; she
helped herself to two, stowed them away with the bread in the capacious
pocket of her green cloth dress, and then looked around her. She had got
to Polly's home, but how was she to accomplish her revenge? How strike
Polly through her most vulnerable point?

She walked slowly upstairs, meditating as she went. Her own little
bower-like room stood open; she entered it. Polly's hands had been
mainly instrumental in giving choice touches to this room; Polly's
favorite blue vase stood filled with flowers on the dressing-table, and
a lovely photograph of the Sistine Madonna which belonged to Polly hung
over the mantelpiece. Flower did not look at any of these things. She
unlocked a small drawer in a dainty inlaid cabinet, which she had
brought with her from Ballarat, took out two magnificent diamond rings,
a little watch set with jewels, and a small purse, very dainty in
itself, but which only held a few shillings. She put all these treasures
into a small black velvet bag, fastened the bag round her neck by a
narrow gold chain, and then leaving her room, stood once more in a
contemplative attitude on the landing.

She was ready now for flight herself, for when she had revenged herself
on Polly, she must certainly fly. But how should she accomplish her
revenge? what should she do? She thought hard. She knew she had but
little time, for the Doctor and the children might return at any moment.

In the distance she heard the merry laugh of Polly's little sister,
Pearl. Flower suddenly colored, her eyes brightened, and she said to
herself:

"That is a good idea; I will go and have a talk with Nurse. I can find
out somehow from Nurse what Polly likes best."

She ran at once to the nurseries.

"My dear Miss Flower," exclaimed Nurse. "Why, wherever have you been,
Miss? I thought you was with the others. Well! you do look tired and
fagged."

"I have walked home," said Flower, carelessly. "I didn't care to be out
so long; picnics are nothing to me; I'm accustomed to that sort of thing
on a big scale at Ballarat, you know. I walked home, and then I thought
I'd have a chat with you, if you didn't mind."

"For sure, dear. Sit you down in that easy chair, Miss Flower; and would
you like to hold baby for a bit? Isn't she sweet to-day? I must say I
neve