“No, Theresa I—­I couldn’t sleep.”  Hastily pouring out a cup of tea she added.  “I must catch that nine o’clock train to Washington.  I didn’t finish packing until nearly three.”

“Can I do anything for you, Miss?” inquired the maid.  Shirley was as popular with the servants as with the rest of the household.

“No,” answered Shirley, “there are only a few, things to go in my suit case.  Will you please have a cab here in half an hour?”

The maid was about to go when she suddenly thought of something she had forgotten.  She held out an envelope which she had left lying on the tray.

“Oh, Miss, Mr. Jorkins said to give you this and master wanted to see you as soon as you had finished your breakfast.”

Shirley tore open the envelope and took out the contents.  It was a cheque, payable to her order for $5,000 and signed “John Burkett Ryder.”

A deep flush covered the girl’s face as she saw the money—­a flush of annoyance rather than of pleasure.  This man who had insulted her, who had wronged her father, who had driven her from his home, thought he could throw his gold at her and insolently send her her pay as one settles haughtily with a servant discharged for impertinence.  She would have none of his money—­the work she had done she would make him a present of.  She replaced the cheque in the envelope and passed it back to Theresa.

“Give this to Mr. Ryder and tell him I cannot see him.”

“But Mr. Ryder said—­” insisted the girl.

“Please deliver my message as I give it,” commanded Shirley with authority.  “I cannot see Mr. Ryder.”

The maid withdrew, but she had barely closed the door when it was opened again and Mrs. Ryder rushed in, without knocking.  She was all flustered with excitement and in such a hurry that she had not even stopped to arrange her toilet.

“My dear Miss Green,” she gasped; “what’s this I hear—­going away suddenly without giving me warning?”

“I wasn’t engaged by the month,” replied Shirley drily.

“I know, dear, I know.  I was thinking of myself.  I’ve grown so used to you—­how shall I get on without you—­no one understands me the way you do.  Dear me!  The whole house is upset.  Mr. Ryder never went to bed at all last night.  Jefferson is going away, too—­ forever, he threatens.  If he hadn’t come and woke me up to say good-bye, I should never have known you intended to leave us.  My boy’s going—­you’re going—­everyone’s deserting me!”

Mrs. Ryder was not accustomed to such prolonged flights of oratory and she sank exhausted on a chair, her eyes filling with tears.

“Did they tell you who I am—­the daughter of Judge Rossmore?” demanded Shirley.