as it waited
in the kitchen entrance. And then the smile turned to a lump in my
throat as Million, in her hat and jacket, stumped down the wooden back
stairs to say good-bye to me.

"I said good-bye to your Aunt Nastur--to Miss Lovelace, before she went
out, Miss." (My aunt is lunching at the hotel of one of her few
remaining old friends who is passing through London.)

"Can't say I shall breck my heart missin' her, Miss Beatrice," announced
the candid Million. "Why, at the last she shook 'ands--hands as if I
was all over black-lead and she was afraid of it coming off on her! But
you--you've always been so different, as I say. You always seemed to go
on as if"--Million's funny little voice quivered--"as if Gord had made
us both----"

"Don't, Million," I said chokily. "I shall cry if you go on like this.
And tears are so unlucky to christen a new venture with."

"Is that what they say, Miss?" rejoined the superstitious Million,
winking back the fat, shiny drops that were gathering in her own grey
eyes. "Aw right, then, I won't. 'Keep smiling,' eh? Always merry and
bright, and cetrer. Good-bye, Miss. Oh, lor'! I wish you was coming
along with me to this place, instead of me going off alone to face all
these strange females----"

"I wish I were; only I shall have to stay and keep the house until my
aunt comes back----"

"Drat 'er! I mean----Excuse me, Miss Beatrice. I wish you hadn't a-got
to live with her. Thrown away on her, you are. It's you that ought to be
clearing out of this place, not just me. You ought to have some sort of
a big bust-up and then bunk!"

"Where to, Million?"

"Anywheres! Couldn't you come where I was? Anyways, Miss, will you drop
me a line sometimes to say how you're keeping? And, Miss, would you be
offended if I said good-bye sort of properly. I know it's like my sorce,
but----"

"Oh, Million, dear!" I cried.

I threw both my arms round her sturdy little jacketed figure. We kissed
as heartily as if we had been twin sisters instead of ex-mistress and
ex-maid.

Then Million--Miss Million, the heiress--trotted off down Laburnum Grove
towards the stopping-place of the electric trams. And I, Beatrice
Lovelace, the pauper, the come-down-in-the-world, turned back into No.
45, feeling as if what laughter there had been in my life had gone out
of it for ever!

I suppose I'd better have lunch--Million's laid it ready for me for the
last time!--then sit in the drawing-room, finishing my d