"MY DEAR FATHER: You told me once that you did not wish me to remain in your house if I could not treat your wife with the respect which you considered was her due. I find I can not do this; nor can I endure any longer the, to me, odious visits of Mr. Henderson. I am, therefore, going away, and you need not be afraid for my future life. I should not have left you if I did not know that you had someone to look after you and care for you, but this I am sure you have. Be kind to the two dear boys, and believe me to remain still, your affectionate daughter. MAY." Mr. Churchill's clear bronzed complexion flushed darkly as he read this letter and comprehended its meaning. "What do you think of that?" he asked, handing it to his wife. Then Mrs. Churchill read the letter fully, and her clear skin also flushed as she did so. "She has run away with someone," she said, as she finished the letter. "She tried to put the blame on me, but that is an excuse--she has gone with some lover." "She has no lover that I know of but young Henderson," replied Mr. Churchill, somewhat hoarsely. He was terribly upset by May's letter, remembering the words which he himself had used to his young daughter, and to which she had referred. "She was sure to have lovers," continued Mrs. Churchill. "You may not know of them. Who can tell? It may be someone beneath her." "You don't know May when you say that!" said Mr. Churchill, angrily. "May is a thorough little lady whatever she is. She would not look at anyone beneath her." "Yet such things have been." "May would do nothing of the sort; I know that," positively asserted her father. "And how do we know that she has gone away with anyone? Most likely gone on some wild-goose chase because she could not get on with you." "Oh! try to blame me. That's just like a man." "I am not blaming you; but I won't have anything of that kind said of my girl. May held herself too high for that." Mrs. Churchill did not speak. She drew in her firm lips. She bore a fresh grudge against May. "Where are the boys? The boys may know something about this?" now said Mr. Churchill. The boys were accordingly called into the dining-room. Will went innocently, but Hal with a guilty conscience, which, however, he was prepared to disguise. "When did you last see your sister yesterday?" asked Mr. Churchill, sternly. "We had tea with her at five o'clock," answered Will; "and after that I did not see her." "And you, Hal?" "I saw her a bit later, and she was going out for a walk then," replied the boy; "and she said she had a headache and would go to bed directly she came in, and would not sit up for you--and that I was to tell you so." "And you did not see her again?" "No, I went out, and when I came back I supposed May had gone to bed as she said she would, for I saw nothing more of her." "And she said nothing to you about going away?"