n innocent girl were to do
what you say, stop them and bring them to her mother, might be saved,
Chatty. I do believe that: but not--not that kind."

The tears by this time were falling fast from Chatty's eyes. "I wonder,"
she said, "if I shall ever see her again."

"Never, I hope; for you could do nothing for her. Shut the window, my
dear, the rain is coming in. Poor Theo, how wet he will get coming home!
I wonder if he will have the thought to change everything now that there
is no occasion to dress, now that we are away."

"Joseph will give him no peace till he does," said Chatty, happily
diverted, as her mother had intended, from sadder thoughts. "And don't
you think she will make him stay to dinner on such a day? Don't you
think she must care a great deal for him, mamma?"

"She must care for him or she would not have listened to him. Poor
Theo!" said the mother, with a sigh.

"But he cares very much for her: and he is happy," said Chatty, with a
certain timidity, a half question; for to her inexperience there were
very serious drawbacks, though perhaps not such as might have occurred
to a more reasonable person. Mrs. Warrender had to change this subject,
too, which Chatty showed a disposition to push too far, by making an
inquiry into the number of their bags and parcels, and reminding her
daughter that they were drawing near the station. It was a very forlorn
little station, wet and dismal, with a few men lounging about, the
collars of their coats up to their ears, and Mrs. Warrender's maid
standing by her pile of boxes, having arrived before them. It had been
an event long looked for, much talked of, of late, but it was not a
cheerful going away.

But the rain had gone off by the time they reached town, and a June day
has a power of recovering itself, such as youth only possesses. But no,
that is an error, as Mrs. Warrender proved. She had been leaning back
in her corner very quiet, saying little, yet with an intense sense of
relief and deliverance. She came in to London with as delightful a
consciousness of novelty and freedom as any boy coming to seek his
fortune. Chatty's feelings were all very mild in comparison with her
mother's. She was greatly pleased to see the clouds clear off, and the
humid sweetness of the skies, which even the breath of the great city
did not obscure. "After all, Theo will have a nice evening for his drive
home," she said, unexcited. Though it was all very agreeable, Chatty
did