ed me quite affectionately.'

'But all the same, Mollie, I think you had better not let him know that
you have told me--I mean it would only embarrass him;' and here Audrey
got up in a hurry and went to her wardrobe for something she had
forgotten, and when she came back, it was to remind Mollie of the
lateness of the hour.

'But this is not good-bye, you know. We shall stop at the Gray Cottage
to-morrow morning, to pick up Kester and his portmanteau.' And then,
with some little difficulty, she dismissed Mollie.

Audrey intended to pay a parting visit to her friend, Mr. O'Brien, that
evening. Dr. Ross and Michael had gone up to London for the day, and had
arranged to sleep in town, and Mr. Harcourt would escort the ladies and
look after their luggage until they joined them.

Audrey had arranged with her mother that an informal meal should be
served in the place of the ordinary late dinner, and that even this
should be postponed until nine. It was impossible to walk to Brail in
the heat of the afternoon--the weather was sultry, even at Rutherford,
and Audrey proposed not to start until after an early tea.

When she was ready she went in search of Booty, who had been left under
her guardianship. She knew exactly where she should find him--lying on
Michael's bed. Booty was always a spectacle of woe during his master's
brief absences. At the sound of a footstep or an opening door below, his
short legs would be heard pattering downstairs; there would be an eager
search in every room, then, with a whine of disappointment and a
heart-broken expression in his brown eyes, Booty would slink back again
to Michael's room to lie on his pillow, or mount guard over some
relic--a tie, a glove, or even an old shoe--something that he could
identify as his master's property.

Audrey was the only one who could comfort Booty for the loss of that
loved presence; but even with her, Booty was still a most unhappy dog.
He plucked up a little spirit, however, at the sight of her hat, and
jumped off the bed. His master was clearly not in the house; perhaps the
road his temporary mistress meant to take would lead to him--even a dog
wearies of moping, and Booty's short legs needed their usual exercise.
He followed her, therefore, without reluctance, and even lapped a little
water out of his special dish; but there was no joyous bark, no
unrestrained gambols, as he trotted after her with his soft eyes looking
out for that worshipped form that