oods as fast as he could go. We called him, and
shouted his name till we were hoarse,--all no use! He wouldn't come
back. I suppose he'll find his way home by himself?"

"Oh, yes," said Thelma gravely. "But when he comes I will scold him very
much! It is not like him to be so wild and cruel. He will understand me
when I tell him how wrong he has been."

"Oh, don't break his heart, poor little chap!" said Lorimer easily.
"Your father has given him a terrible scolding already. He hasn't got
his wits about him you know,--he can't help being queer sometimes. But
what have _you_ been doing with yourself during our absence?" And he
regarded her with friendly scrutiny. "You were crying when I came in.
Now, weren't you?"

She met his gaze quite frankly. "Yes!" she replied, with a plaintive
thrill in her voice. "I could not help it! My heart ached and the tears
came. Somehow I felt that everything was wrong,--and that it was all my
fault--"

"Your fault!" murmured Lorimer, astonished. "My dear Miss Gueldmar, what
do you mean? What _is_ your fault?"

"Everything!" she answered sadly, with a deep sigh. "I am very foolish;
and I am sure I often do wrong without meaning it. Mr. Dyceworthy has
been here and--" she stopped abruptly, and a wave of color flushed her
face.

Lorimer laughed lightly. "Dyceworthy!" he exclaimed. "The mystery is
explained! You have been bored by 'the good religious,' as Pierre calls
him. You know what _boring_ means now, Miss Gueldmar, don't you?" She
smiled slightly, and nodded. "The first time you visited the _Eulalie_,
you didn't understand the word, I remember,--ah!" and he shook his
head--"if you were in London society, you'd find that expression very
convenient,--it would come to your lips pretty frequently, I can tell
you!"

"I shall never see London," she said, with a sort of resigned air. "You
will all go away very soon, and I--I shall be lonely--"

She bit her lips in quick vexation, as her blue eyes filled again with
tears in spite of herself.

Lorimer turned away and pulled a chair to the open window.

"Come and sit down here," he said invitingly. "We shall be able to see
the others coming down the hill. Nothing like fresh air for blowing away
the blues." Then, as she obeyed him, he added, "What has Dyceworthy been
saying to you?"

"He told me I was wicked," she murmured; "and that all the people here
think very badly of me. But that was not the worst"--and a little
shudder passed