“I think she has gone to Guildford, ma’am, shopping; she often did while you were away. I heard her tell the driver to drive quickly to the station, as she feared she was late.” “Oh. Did any one call, Jane?” “No, ma’am.” Then, once more, Florence delivered herself over to despair. Aunt Anne must have gone to buy more surprises, and if she had only ten shillings in the world it was quite clear she would have to get them on credit. Something would have to be done. The tradespeople would have to be warned. Walter must be written to, and, if necessary, asked to cable over advice. Perhaps Sir William Rammage would interfere. In the midst of all her perturbation seven o’clock struck, and there was no Aunt Anne. Florence was a healthy young woman, and she had had a long walk. The pangs of hunger assailed her vigorously, so, after resisting them till half-past seven, she sat down to her little supper alone. Food has a soothing effect on an agitated mind, and a quarter of an hour later, though Aunt Anne had not appeared, Florence had come to the conclusion that she could not get very deeply into debt, because it was not likely that the tradespeople would trust her. Perhaps, too, after all, she had not gone to Guildford. Still, what could keep her out so late? The roads were dark and lonely, she knew no one in the neighbourhood. It was to be hoped that nothing had happened to her, and, at this thought, Florence began to reproach herself again for all her unkindness of the morning. But while she was still reviewing her own conduct with much severity there was a soft patter, patter, along the gravel path outside, and a feeble ring at the bell. “That dissipated old lady!” laughed Florence to herself, only too delighted to think that she had returned safely at last. A moment later Aunt Anne entered. She was a little breathless, her left eye winked more frequently than usual, there was an air of happy excitement in her manner. She entered the room quickly, and seated herself in the easy-chair with a sigh of relief. “My darling,” she said, looking fondly at Florence, “I trust you did not wait for me, and that I have not caused you any inconvenience. But if I have,” she added in an almost cooing voice, “you will forgive me when you know all.” “Oh yes, dear Aunt Anne, I will forgive you,” and Florence signed to Jane to bring a plate. “You must be shockingly hungry,” she laughed. “Where have you been, may I know?”