At the door of the first-class railway compartment by which Auntie was to travel Grace stood. "Gussie will be furious when he comes back and finds you gone," she said. "He'll catch the man, to the deadest certainty. He's got the brains of the whole police force in his own head. You should have stayed to enjoy the excitement." Auntie, whitened and flabby-looking under her smart violet toque, reiterated the statement that she could not have stayed another night. "It's been a great shock. I feel as if I might never recover from it; and I wish with all my heart I had never come," she said. "Well, since you wish it, I wish it, too," Grace retorted, kindling. "We must console ourselves that it has not been for long, and try to forget all about it." "I shall be glad to be back in my own home," Auntie said. She looked so changed from the well-satisfied, prosperous Auntie whom Grace had welcomed to her home two days before, that Mrs Mellish's resentment faded as she regarded her. "You are sure you like best to travel alone?" she asked her, with anxious kindness. Yes. Auntie preferred her own company. If a man got in at any of the stations, she said, so upset were her nerves, she would certainly be ill with the fright. So Mrs Mellish found the guard and intimated to him that the lady wished to be undisturbed. Auntie stopped him when, in his officious zeal, he was about to lock the carriage door. "I can't bear the feeling of being locked in," she said. "It makes me lose my breath." She leaned out of the window, and kissed her niece with more demonstrativeness than was her custom. "You know my address if you--want anything. Good-bye," she said. "Good-bye," Grace said, and shook a hand at the window. "Don't forget to eat your sandwiches--you had no breakfast, you know. You've got some brandy-and-water in your flask, remember. Take care of yourself. Good-bye." "Silly old goose! Making such a fuss, at her age!" she said to herself as she walked away. "Well, after all, it's a relief she's gone. I'm sure I never wanted her. It was Gussie's idea, not mine." Evidently the story of the burglary had got about. Mrs Mellish noticed several people turning to look at her with unwonted interest as she walked along. On inquiring of the servants, she found the master had not returned. On his dressing-table, as she took off her hat, she noticed a neat little oblong parcel lying. It was addressed in Augustus's writing, "To my darling Henry, with all his father's love." Grace smiled to herself. "Gussie remembered the paint-box," she said. "He never forgets the boy." She took the little parcel, and posted it to her son. As the train sped on, Auntie, expanding herself in her corner, felt a revival of health and spirits.