y an angry word
you shall turn me out that very moment. Dear Mrs. Mumford! Oh!
_what_ shall I do if you won't be kind to me? What will become of
me? I have no home, and everybody hates me.'

'Tears streamed down her face; she lay back, overcome with misery.
Emmeline was distracted. She felt herself powerless to act as
common-sense dictated, yet desired more than ever to rid herself of
every shadow of responsibility for the girl's proceedings. The idea
of this marriage taking place at "Runnymede" made her blood run
cold. No, no; _that_ was absolutely out of the question. But equally
impossible did it seem to speak with brutal decision. Once more she
must temporise, and hope for courage on another day.

'I can't--I really can't give you a definite answer till I have
spoken with Mr. Mumford.'

'Oh! I am sure he will do me this kindness,' sobbed Louise.

A slight emphasis on the "he" touched Mrs. Mumford unpleasantly. She
rose, and began to pick out some overblown flowers from a vase on
the table near her. Presently Louise became silent. Before either of
them spoke again a postman's knock sounded at the house-door, and
Emmeline went to see what letter had been delivered. It was for Miss
Derrick; the handwriting, as Emmeline knew, that of Mr. Cobb.

'Oh, bother!' Louise murmured, as she took the letter from Mrs.
Mumford's hand. 'Well, I'm a trouble to everybody, and I don't know
how it'll all end. I daresay I shan't live very long.'

'Don't talk nonsense, Louise.'

'Should you like me to go at once, Mrs. Mumford?' the girl asked,
with a submissive sigh.

'No, no. Let us think over it for a day or two. Perhaps you haven't
quite made up your mind, after all.'

To this, oddly enough, Louise gave no reply. She lingered by the
window, nervously bending and rolling her letter, which she did not
seem to think of opening. After a glance or two of discreet
curiosity, Mrs. Mumford left the room. Daily duties called for
attention, and she was not at all inclined to talk further with
Louise. The girl, as soon as she found herself alone, broke Mr.
Cobb's envelope, which contained four sides of bold handwriting--not
a long letter, but, as usual, vigorously worded. 'Dear Miss
Derrick,' he wrote, 'I haven't been in a hurry to reply to your
last, as it seemed to me that you were in one of your touchy moods
when you sent it. It wasn't my fault that I called at the house when
you were away. I happened to have business at Croydon un