ything you can remember of her plans. I expect Father will start for
Liverpool at once in search of her."

"You won't tell Poppie, Motherkins?"

"I shall send a note to Miss Poppleton as soon as I have telephoned to
Father. We must leave no stone unturned to find Gipsy. Miss Poppleton
will be as alarmed and anxious as I am myself. She may be a little
stern, but she is a good, conscientious person in the main."

Mrs. Gordon's estimate of Miss Poppleton's character was a correct one.
The latter, though she had been severe and even hard with Gipsy, had
meant well by her, and had intended to take charge of her until she
found an opportunity of sending her, under careful protection, to her
relations in New Zealand. She was in a state of the utmost concern at
the girl's rash action in running away, and had lost no time in
summoning the aid of the police to track her and ensure her safety. If
Gipsy were the black sheep of the flock, she was at any rate the lost
sheep, to be sought for diligently, and rejoiced over when found.

To Miss Edith the affair was a sad blow. She was genuinely fond of
Gipsy, and had been greatly distressed by the events of the last few
days. Though she dutifully accepted her sister's opinion, and believed
Gipsy guilty, she nevertheless was ready to welcome back the prodigal
with open arms. She did not dare to break down before Miss Poppleton,
who disliked a public exhibition of feeling, so she retired to the linen
room to wipe her eyes in private. Having indulged in a little
surreptitious weeping she felt better, and decided to try to distract
her mind by tidying her cupboards. Now, though Miss Edith was on the
whole a good housekeeper, she had a poor memory, and was very apt to put
things away and forget all about them. As she rearranged her drawers and
shelves on this particular evening, she was dismayed to find several
articles for which she had searched in vain elsewhere.

"Why, here's the tea cloth that I thought had been lost in the wash!"
she exclaimed. "And Miss Lindsay's dressing jacket--she was afraid she
must have left it in London. Why! and here's a coat of Daisy
Scatcherd's. I remember quite plainly putting it by last autumn, when
she had such a terrible cold. I thought it was too thin for her to wear.
Why didn't the child ask me for it? She's as forgetful as I am. It's
just the thing for chilly evenings, to slip on when she's been playing
tennis."

Miss Edith gave the coat a good sh