America. It was a long,
cheerfully-written epistle, containing constant references to his
coming, and to the good time which they were to enjoy together. With
deliberate fingers she tore it in pieces and dropped the fragments into
the waste-paper basket. The missive, which was written in its stead was
short, and to the point--

"My old Poppar!--This is just a business note that has got to be
attended to in a hurry. Well-brought-up-parents do what they're told,
and ask no questions. There are breakers ahead over here. They don't
concern Aunt Soph; I've broken the back of that worry, and we get
along a treat. Heart trouble, daddy! Symptoms unfavourable, and
ultimate collapse preventable only by speedy change of scene.

"Sit down straight away and write a letter I can show round, summoning
me home by the first boat! You can call it an `urgent crisis.' It's
as true as taxes, though not in the way they take it. I've got to
run, and that's all there is to it. Our jaunt must wait till another
day. You must comfort me, Poppar,--you and America!--Your lonesome,
Cornelia."

She did not pause to read over what she had written, but, fastening it
in an envelope, pealed the bell, which brought Mary running blithely to
her service. For once, however, the devoted slave ventured to raise a
feeble objection.

"_Now_, Miss Cornelia? I'm in the middle of my silver. It will go just
as soon if it's posted by half-past three!"

Cornelia glanced at her with the air of an offended goddess.

"I said now, and I _mean_ now! This instant, before you touch another
one thing. Post it with your own hands, and come up here to tell me
it's done!"

Mary vanished in a whirl of starched cotton skirts, rushed to the
pillar-box at the corner of the Park, and in five minutes' time was back
at the bedroom door to proclaim her obedience. Cornelia was still
standing in the middle of the room. It appeared to the maid that she
had not altered her position by as much as an inch since she had seen
her last. Her expression was tense with expectation.

"It's gone, miss! I put it in myself!"

The golden eyes regarded her strangely.

"Did you, Mury?" said Cornelia, low. She paused a moment as though to
form some expression of acknowledgment, but it did not come. "Some
time," she continued slowly, "some time, Mury, I believe I'm going to
thank you very much, but to-day I don't feel like gushing. ... You can
go