“It won’t be comfortable,” said Kitty pathetically.  “It will never be that any more.”

“You must not begin by being prejudiced against your aunt,” reasoned her father gently.

“I am not, father, really; we are not prejudiced,” she answered; “but we know, and—­and every one else knows that—­that—­well, when I told Jabez what was going to happen, he sat down on a bucket and he looked—­he looked at first as though he were going to faint, and then as though he would leave.  I feel nearly certain he will not stay, I really do, father.  Aunt Pike was always down on him.”

Dr. Trenire felt a little uneasy.  He hated changes amongst his servants when once he had grown used to them, and Jabez was a faithful and valuable one in spite of his peculiarities.  “You should have thought of all this sooner,” he said, rather crossly, “and not have made such a step necessary.”

“But—­but, father, if we promise now, and really mean it, and begin at once, and—­and—­” Kitty was so excited she could hardly get her words out, for she had quickly caught the signs of wavering in her father’s voice and manner.  Already she felt as though victory were near.  “Anyhow, father, give us six months, or even three months more, just to let us show that—­”

With an exclamation, Dr. Trenire leaned forward and pulled the right rein sharply.  “Take care, child,” he cried; “you will have us over in a moment.  You have almost got this wheel over the edge of the ditch.  You must learn to attend to the business in hand, or you will never succeed in anything.  Another inch and you would have upset us, and probably have broken a spring.”

Dr. Trenire’s nerves were on edge, and he spoke more sharply than was usual with him.  Kitty felt that she had made a bad beginning, her spirits sank, and she lapsed into silence.  But when they were once more bowling smoothly along, her father’s thoughts returned to her appeal.

“I am afraid it is too late now,” he said gently, sorry for his momentary irritability.  “I have already written to your aunt.”

Kitty turned a stricken face to him, and her hold of the reins loosened again.  “Written to Aunt Pike—­already!” she gasped.  “Oh!” But hope rose again a moment later.  “But you haven’t posted it?”

“Yes, I have.  At least, I gave it, with some others, to Jabez to post.  It will have gone by the time we reach home.”

“Oh, how dreadful!” Kitty’s fingers tightened on the reins.  Her impulse was to turn and drive back furiously to try and intercept that fatal letter.  “Father, do let me just drive quickly back and stop it,” she pleaded; but her father shook his head.

“I must get on to see Sir James as speedily as I can.  It would take us nearly an hour to go home and reach this far again; the old gentleman would think I wasn’t coming to-night.  Look at the sky, too; we must try and get to Welland, if not home again, before the storm bursts.  It will be a bad one when it comes, and anything but pleasant or safe to be driving through over an exposed road such as this; and even now I am afraid it will be dark before we get home.”