Whom could she have been saying good-by to so demonstratively, and whither had she gone?  With a curiosity that for the moment took the place of his uneasiness, McQueen proceeded to the house, the door of which was shut but not locked.  Two glances convinced him that there was no one here, the kitchen was as he had seen it last, except that the long mirror had been placed on a chair close to the east window.  The doctor went to the outside of the window, and looked in, he could see nothing but his own reflection in the mirror, and was completely puzzled.  But it was no time, he felt, for standing there scratching his head, when there was reason to fear that the girl had gone.  Gone where?  He saw his selfishness now, in a glaring light, and it fled out of him pursued by curses.

He stopped at Aaron’s door and called for Tommy, but Tommy had left the house an hour ago.  “Gone with her, the sacket; he very likely put her up to this,” the doctor muttered, and the surmise seemed justified when he heard that Grizel and Tommy had been seen passing the Fens.  That they were running away had never struck those who saw them, and McQueen said nothing of his suspicions, but off he went in his gig on their track and ran them down within a mile of Tilliedrum.  Grizel scurried on, thinking it was undoubtedly her father, but in a few minutes the three were conversing almost amicably, the doctor’s first words had been so “sweet.”

Tommy explained that they were out for a walk, but Grizel could not lie, and in a few passionate sentences she told McQueen the truth.  He had guessed the greater part of it, and while she spoke he looked so sorry for her, such a sweet change had come over his manner, that she held his hand.

“But you must go no farther,” he told her, “I am to take you back with me,” and that alarmed her.  “I won’t go back,” she said, determinedly, “he might come.”

“There’s little fear of his coming,” McQueen assured her, gently, “but if he does come I give you my solemn word that I won’t let him take you away unless you want to go.”

Even then she only wavered, but he got her altogether with this:  “And should he come, just think what a piece of your mind you could give him, with me standing by holding your hand.”

“Oh, would you do that?” she asked, brightening.

“I would do a good deal to get the chance,” he said.

“I should just love it!” she cried.  “I shall come now,” and she stepped light-heartedly into the gig, where the doctor joined her.  Tommy, who had been in the background all this time, was about to jump up beside them, but McQueen waved him back, saying maliciously, “There’s just room for two, my man, so I won’t interfere with your walk.”

Tommy, in danger of being left, very hot and stout and sulky, whimpered, “What have I done to anger you?”

“You were going with her, you blackguard,” replied McQueen, not yet in full possession of the facts, for whether Tommy was or was not going with her no one can ever know.