‘My dear, surely you must be tired out!’ exclaimed the stay-at-home aunt.

‘Oh no, Aunt Ada!  Quite freshened by that blow on the common.’

And Miss Mohun was not sorry, thinking that to leave Gillian free to come home by herself would be the best refutation of Mrs. Mount’s doubts of her.

They had not, however, gone far on their way—–­on the walk rather unfrequented at this time of day—–­before Gillian exclaimed, ’Is that Kally?  Oh! and who is that with her?’ For there certainly was a figure in somewhat close proximity, the ulster and pork-pie hat being such as to make the gender doubtful.

‘How late she is!  I am afraid her mother is worse,’ said Miss Mohun, quickening her steps a little, and, at the angle of the road, the pair in front perceived them.  Kalliope turned towards them; the companion—–­about whom there was no doubt by that time—–­gave a petulant motion and hastened out of sight.

In another moment they were beside Kalliope, who looked shaken and trembling, with tears in her eyes, which sprang forth at the warm pressure of her hand.

‘I am afraid Mrs. White is not so well,’ said Miss Mohun kindly.

’She is no worse, I think, thank you, but I was delayed.  Are you going this way?  May I walk with you?’

‘I will come with you to the office,’ said Miss Mohun, perceiving that she was in great need of an escort and protector.

‘Oh, thank you, thank you, if it is not too much out of your way.’

A few more words passed about Mrs. White’s illness and what advice she was having.  Miss Mohun could not help thinking that the daughter did not quite realise the extent of the illness, for she added—–­

’It was a good deal on the nerves and mind.  She was so anxious about Mr. James White’s arrival.’

‘Have you not seen him?’

‘Oh no!  Not yet.’

‘I think you will be agreeably surprised,’ said Gillian.  And here they left her at Mrs. Giles’s door.

‘Yes,’ added Miss Mohun, ‘he gave me the idea of a kind, just man.’

‘Miss Mohun,’ said the poor girl, as soon as they were tete-a-tete, ’I know you are very good.  Will you tell me what I ought to do?  You saw just now—–­’

‘I did; and I have heard.’

Her face was all in a flame and her voice choked.  ’He says—–­Mr. Frank does—–­that his mother has found out, and that she will tell her own story to Mr. White; and—–­and we shall all get the sack, as he calls it; and it will be utter misery, and he will not stir a finger to vindicate me; but if I will listen to him, he will speak to Mr. White, and bear me through; but I can’t—–­I can’t.  I know he is a bad man; I know how he treated poor Edith Vane.  I never can; and how shall I keep out of his way?’

‘My poor child,’ said Miss Mohun, ’it is a terrible position for you; but you are doing quite right.  I do not believe Mr. White would go much by what that young man says, for I know he does not think highly of him.’