sort."

Hilda did not care for the social little meal which was generally so
lively when Judy was present. Immediately afterward she ran upstairs to
put on her bonnet and jacket; and as she was going out, left a message
with Susan.

"If Miss Judy and Mr. Rivers come," she said, "please say that I have
gone to Lincoln's Inn Fields, as I felt anxious about the child being
so long away."

"Yes, ma'am," said the servant.

"Whistle for a hansom for me, please, Susan."

Susan did so; and half an hour afterward Hilda was making inquiries at
Rivers' chambers with regard to his whereabouts. The clerks there could
give her no definite information. Mr. Rivers had gone out with a little
lady soon after twelve o'clock, and had told them not to expect him back
that day.

"I shall find Judy at Philippa Terrace when I go home," thought Mrs.
Quentyns. "It was thoughtless of her not to tell me how long she would
be out--it was wonderfully unlike her. Still, of course, she will be at
home now."

But when Hilda returned no Judy was there to greet her; but her
husband's face was seen looking somewhat impatiently out at the
drawing-room window. He came at once to help his wife out of the cab,
and entered the house with her.

"Where were you?" he asked. "It is nearly time for dinner."

"I won't be a moment getting dressed, Jasper; but--but--I am anxious
about Judy."

Quentyns had meant to be specially nice and kind to Hilda after his
evening's pleasure, but he felt it impossible now to keep the glib,
sarcastic words back.

"I might have known when I saw that fretful look on your face, that Judy
was the cause. Now, what is her latest transgression?"

"Oh, there is a telegraph-boy," said Hilda eagerly. "What--what--oh,
_is_ there anything wrong?"

She rushed to the hall-door herself, before Jasper could prevent her.
Susan, coming into the hall to answer the imperative double knock, was
sent back to the kitchen regions, in a cross voice, by her master.

"Really, Hilda," began Quentyns, "your impetuosity is most undignified.
I must say that these kinds of scenes are----Now, what is the matter,
my love--tears again. A coming home of this sort is not the most
cheerful sort of thing, you must allow."

"Oh, Jasper, Jasper, I'm not even listening to you," said poor Hilda.
"What can be the matter? what can be wrong? Here's a telegram from Mr.
Rivers. He says--see what he says.

"'Little Staunton Rectory. Have brought Judy home. W