As she went out she stopped in the Doorway and crossed her Heart, meaning that she would die before she would tell anything.  But I was not comfortable.  It is not a pleasant thought that your best friend considers you married and gone beyond recall, when in truth you are not, or even thinking about it, except in idle moments.

The seen now changes.  Life is nothing but such changes.  No sooner do we alight on one Branch, and begin to sip the honey from it, but we are taken up and carried elsewhere, perhaps to the Mountains or to the Sea-shore, and there left to make new friends and find new methods of Enjoyment.

The flight—­or journey—­was in itself an anxious time.  For on my otherwise clear conscience rested the weight of that strange Suitcase.  Fortunately Hannah was so busy that I was left to pack my belongings myself, and thus for a time my gilty secret was safe.  I put my things in on top of the masculine articles, not daring to leave any of them in the closet, owing to house-cleaning, which is always done before our return in the fall.

On the train I had a very unpleasant experience, due to Sis opening my Suitcase to look for a magazine, and drawing out a soiled gentleman’s coller.  She gave me a very peircing Glance, but said nothing and at the next opportunity I threw it out of a window, concealed in a newspaper.

We now approach the Catastrofe.  My book on playwriting divides plays into Introduction, Development, Crisis, Denouement and Catastrofe.  And so one may devide life.  In my case the Cinder proved the Introduction, as there was none other.  I consider that the Suitcase was the Development, my showing it to Jane Raleigh was the Crisis, and the Denouement or Catastrofe occured later on.

Let us then procede to the Catastrofe.

Jane Raleigh came to see me off at the train.  Her Familey was coming the next day.  And instead of Flowers, she put a small bundel into my hands.  “Keep it hiden, Bab,” she said, “and tear up the card.”

I looked when I got a chance, and she had crocheted me a wash cloth, with a pink edge.  “For your linen Chest,” the card said, “and I’m doing a bath towle to match.”

I tore up the Card, but I put the wash cloth with the other things I was trying to hide, because it is bad luck to throw a Gift away.  But I hoped, as I seemed to be getting more things to conceal all the time, that she would make me a small bath towle, and not the sort as big as a bed spread.

Father went with us to get us settled, and we had a long talk while mother and Sis made out lists for Dinners and so forth.

“Look here, Bab,” he said, “somthing’s wrong with you.  I seem to have lost my only boy, and have got instead a sort of tear-y young person I don’t recognize.”

“I’m growing up, father” I said.  I did not mean to rebuke him, but ye gods!  Was I the only one to see that I was no longer a Child?

“Somtimes I think you are not very happy with us.”