The next minute Miss Yard was struggling towards the door, rejecting the advice of George, pushing aside the arms of Bessie; declaring that nobody should prevent her from dragging Nellie out of the pit of financial ruin. She stumbled across the hall, banged at the door of the dining room until it was opened to her; and then came silence, but presently the old lady's queer voice could be heard distinctly, and after that her bursts of merry laughter. Miss Yard had fallen into this very worst company herself. Kezia and Bessie crept silently toward the kitchen. The whole house was polluted. George searched for flies to kill. "Oh, I say, what tons of luggage!" cried a childish voice. "Yes, we are off first thing in the morning," said Nellie; and then followed some whispering, with a few words breaking out here and there: "Miss Yard wants to be among her old friends again ... a great secret, you know" ... "of course I shan't tell anyone, but Sidney will be" ... "I'm so sorry, but it can't be helped" ... "there's such a thing as the post" ... "good-bye! I'm so glad you came." The door shut, George jumped out of the window in time to see the young girl racing down the lane; then he returned to the house and asked sternly, "What's the meaning of this?" "Really and truly I don't know," replied Nellie. "But I am at least satisfied that Highfield needs a missionary." "Now you are shuffling. You invited that miserable little creature into my house, you encouraged her to cross my doorstep, I heard you laughing and talking as if you were enjoying yourself. You actually gave away the secret about Drivelford. Come outside!" said George, as if he meant to fight. "I mean you can't believe a word that Highfield says," she explained, following obediently. "That little girl's as good as gold." "To begin with, who is she?" George demanded, scowling like the Dismal Gibcat. "That is more than I can tell you. She told me her name was Christina--sometimes Chrissie--but those who love her generally call her Teenie." "What did she want?" "She invited me to tea at Black Anchor Farm on Sunday. She also promised to chaperon me." "The infamous urchin!" groaned George. "I should have gone," she said steadily. "Then you must be altogether--absolutely wrong somewhere. Go there to tea! Sit opposite that wicked old man, beside that abandoned youth, and positively touching that shameless child who hasn't got a surname! After all that has passed between us, after all your promises to me, after all that I have done for you--all my kindness and self-sacrifice--you would drink tea out of their teapot, and let yourself be talked about as one of the young women of Black Anchor!" "My suspicions are not quite gone. But directly I saw little Miss Christina I knew the horrible things we have heard are all lies. She's a young lady. She goes to school at Cheltenham."