Half-way along the corridor Chris slackened her steps. It began to dawn upon her that she had just managed to put herself in a very uncomfortable position. She had, she thought, probably succeeded in freeing herself from the attentions of the boisterous hobbledehoy who had been pursuing her. But if, as she judged most likely, he should confide to his mother the details of the interview just passed, Mrs. Graham-Shute’s indignation would be so great, that she would certainly vent some of it on the girl who had “insulted” her son. With this unpleasant idea in her mind, Chris went down to the drawing-room very soberly. The moment she entered she was seized upon by Mrs. Graham-Shute. “Oh, Miss Abercarne,” began that lady in an injured tone, “you’ve forgotten all about the music. Don’t you know that the performance is to take place to-morrow, and that it doesn’t do to leave everything to the last?” Chris was not in the humour to be bullied by Mrs. Graham-Shute for that lady’s own neglect. “I hadn’t forgotten the music, Mrs. Shute,” she said. “But I hadn’t been asked to arrange it, and I should not have taken the matter upon myself, even if, with the costumes to make, I had had time.” “Oh, well, somebody must see to it. I’m getting this affair up for other people’s pleasure, and I expect to be helped.” “If you will settle upon the music you want played, I am quite ready to play it,” said Chris rather shortly. It was certainly not for Miss Abercarne’s pleasure that Mrs. Graham-Shute was getting up the entertainment, but she spoke as if she had no other object in view. At that moment the door opened, and Donald came in. He did not see Chris, who was standing in the embrasure formed by the big bay-window which looked out to the west. Donald slouched up to his mother with his usual heavy tread. “Mother,” he said, “I want to speak to you.” Mrs. Graham-Shute turned towards him, and Chris slipped quickly out of the corner she was in, passed round the two, and crossed the room to the door. “Wait a minute, Miss Abercarne,” said Mrs. Graham-Shute peremptorily, catching sight of Chris when the girl’s hand was on the door. But Chris took no notice. She had been running about and tiring herself out for that lady for two days, and now at last she rebelled. She saw Donald start and turn round, and that was another reason why she felt that she must make her escape. She had had enough of Graham-Shutes for the present; and as they could find her as long as she was in the house, she pulled out a cloak from a box-ottoman in the hall, took from a peg in the outer hall a lantern which always hung there, lit the candle in it, and escaped out of the house. She would go and see how the work of erecting the stage in the barn was getting on.