ried out in his cheery voice,
"Back again, my children," but, to his surprise, there was no response
and, seeing Mrs. Whyte signal him to be quiet, he gave a low whistle and
murmured under his breath, with a chuckle, "a lover's quarrel, by Jove."

Amy, on entering the house, went straight to her room and locked herself
in; an occurrence so unique in the history of the Mia-Mia, that old
Whyte stared open-mouthed at Reg, who had flung himself on the sofa, and
asked:

"What's the matter, Reg?"

"I don't know, dad. I don't understand it at all."

"Have you quarrelled?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

Reg told him all he knew about the matter, which certainly did not seem
much in the telling, and sitting-out being a common occurrence at balls
Whyte was disposed to look at it in the light of an attack of lovers'
jealousy, until Mrs. Whyte entered the room, looking very concerned,
and, taking her husband's arm, burst into tears.

"Don't give way like that, missus. Why, what's the matter?" said he,
tenderly.

"Oh, dad, dad, it's horrible. She has locked herself in her room, and is
crying bitterly, but she won't open the door. Who would have thought our
Amy would do such a thing. Oh, these horrid balls!"

"It's not the ball," said Reg, fiercely. "It's that scoundrel Wyckliffe
who is the cause of all this. I'll murder him."

"Reg, I am surprised at you talking like that," said Mrs. Whyte. "If Amy
wished to stay with him, she--"

"Prefers him to me, is that it?" put in Reg, rising, and pacing the
room, angrily.

"No, not that. I mean she is to blame."

"She's not to blame. If she had not met that fellow, there would have
been no trouble."

"Come, come," said Whyte, anxious to make peace. "Let's get to bed;
perhaps she will have forgotten all about it in the morning." And he led
his wife away.

Reg did not go to bed, but walked restlessly to and from the garden to
cool his heated brain and collect his thoughts. At last he entered his
room, and casually picked up a copy of _Truth_ to while away the time
until he felt inclined for sleep. His eye happened to light on a
paragraph drawing attention to the ruin of the prospects of a young
actress by a gentleman "well-known in Society." No names were mentioned,
but fuller details were promised. Had names been mentioned an amount of
sorrow, with its appalling consequences, would have been saved and this
story never have been written. At last Reg tumbled into bed, only to