joined her, and she was
handed an envelope addressed in Louis' schoolboy hand.

The train was now in sight, and, after establishing the little girl in
a seat by the window, Mr. Evans left her for a few minutes and Edna
opened her letter.

It was dated a day or two earlier. "Dear Edna," it read, "I am going
to run away. Don't tell anyone. I know you won't go back on me. I am
going to my father and mother in Pasadena.

Affectionately, LOUIS."

A distressed little child it was who turned the letter over and over,
helplessly. She had been having such a good time; all unhappy things
had been smoothed away from her, and it seemed as if this going back
became suddenly more dreadful than she could possibly have expected.
She was very quiet during the short trip, once in a while casting
furtive glances at Mr. Evans, who, absorbed in his newspaper, did no
more than address a word or two to her. He set her down at her uncle's
door, bidding her good-by pleasantly, and telling her that they should
hope to see her in the country often.

The latch of the door being up, Edna went in, feeling very
heavy-hearted.

It was early on Saturday afternoon, the house was very quiet; there
was no one in the sitting-room and Edna went through the dining-room
and on to where she heard voices.

Ellen in a freshly scoured kitchen was chatting with a friend while
she set things to rights. She turned with an exclamation at the sight
of Edna.

"Bless the choild!" she cried. "Comin' in like a bit of a ghost! It's
good to see ye, darlint. An' are ye well again? Let me see. Thim
cheeks bid to be a bit more rosy."

"Where is uncle?" asked Edna.

"Sure the two of thim is after foll'in' Masther Louis."

"And Louis?" Edna's lip quivered. She hoped against hope.

"Hear now; he's gone, av coorse."

"When did he go?" asked Edna, her voice shaking.

"Poor dear; don't mourn; to be sure ye'll be missin' him. He went
to-day. Let Ellen take off your wrap, and thin ye can go up and see
how nate an' nice yer room looks," and Ellen turned to continue an
exciting bit of gossip for her friend's benefit.

Edna slowly went up stairs. She felt, O, so lonely, and such a weight
as Louis' secret gave her. Ellen couldn't understand, and didn't seem
to care. What should she do? If Louis' father and mother only knew,
perhaps they could do something; grown people had so many ways of
preventing mishaps; time and space were often no obstacles to them.
S