had been put aboard the
night before, unknown to Suzanne, and Mrs. Dale was going shortly to
serve breakfast. She had not risked a maid on this journey.

"I don't know," replied her mother indifferently, looking out at a
stretch of burnt woods.

"I thought we were to be in Albany a little after midnight?" said
Suzanne.

"So we were," replied Mrs. Dale, preparing to confess. Kinroy came back
into the car.

"Well, then," said Suzanne, pausing, looking first out of the windows
and then fixedly at her mother. It came to her as she saw the unsettled,
somewhat nervous expression in her mother's face and eyes and in
Kinroy's that this was a trick and that she was being taken
somewhere--where?--against her will.

"This is a trick, mama," she said to her mother grandly. "You have lied
to me--you and Kinroy. We are not going to Albany at all. Where are we
going?"

"I don't want to tell you now, Suzanne," replied Mrs. Dale quietly.
"Have your bath and we'll talk about it afterwards. It doesn't matter.
We're going up into Canada, if you want to know. We are nearly there
now. You'll know fast enough when we get there."

"Mama," replied Suzanne, "this is a despicable trick! You are going to
be sorry for this. You have lied to me--you and Kinroy. I see it now. I
might have known, but I didn't believe you would lie to me, mama. I
can't do anything just now, I see that very plainly. But when the time
comes, you are going to be sorry. You can't control me this way. You
ought to know better. You yourself are going to take me back to New
York." And she fixed her mother with a steady look which betokened a
mastership which her mother felt nervously and wearily she might
eventually be compelled to acknowledge.

"Now, Suzanne, what's the use of talking that way?" pleaded Kinroy.
"Mama is almost crazy, as it is. She couldn't think of any other way or
thing to do."

"You hush, Kinroy," replied Suzanne. "I don't care to talk to you. You
have lied to me, and that is more than I ever did to you. Mama, I am
astonished at you," she returned to her mother. "My mother lying to me!
Very well, mama. You have things in your hands today. I will have them
in mine later. You have taken just the wrong course. Now you wait and
see."

Mrs. Dale winced and quailed. This girl was the most unterrified,
determined fighter she had ever known. She wondered where she got her
courage--from her late husband, probably. She could actually feel the
quietne