"Yesterday; I think it was yesterday," Christina frowned with the effort of memory. "It was on Christmas evening--yes, that was yesterday. And when Sir Arthur said he would send for the police, I ran out of the hall, and up to my room. I think I was almost mad. I tore off my frock--my pretty frock that Lady Cicely had given me, and when there came a knock at the door, and I heard Lady Cicely's voice, I would not let her in at first. And then I opened the door, and she came in, and begged me to tell just the whole truth. And I said I had told the truth--I couldn't make it any different. And she was so sad--her eyes looked all hurt, and she said she couldn't doubt me, and yet Sir Arthur was determined to send for the police. And--then she said she would send up my dinner to the nursery. It was Christmas Day, you know," the girl went on, a wistful look in her eyes; "and I had been looking forward so very much to Christmas, in a happy homely home like Bramwell Castle; and my new frock was so sweet; and then--to think of having to eat my Christmas dinner alone in the nursery, accused of being a thief," a little sob caught her breath. "But I didn't eat the dinner at all," she went on hurriedly. "After Lady Cicely had gone down again, I thought and thought about the police coming, until I couldn't bear it any more. So I just put on my serge frock, and my thick coat and hat; and whilst dinner was going on in the dining-room, I slipped away, and out of the house. I felt like a wild thing, mad with terror, my only wish was to get right away as fast as I could--I was afraid, I was so afraid. And I did not know where to go, or what to do; and, when the thought of you came into my head, I knew I must come straight to you." "But, my dear," Margaret's gentle voice broke in, "you say all this happened last night. Where did you sleep? How could you get away from Bramwell Castle, on Christmas night?" "I walked to one of the nearest stations; not the one they generally use, but another--Hansley--where no one knew me by sight, and there was no train till early in the morning. So I just stayed in the waiting-room all night. They let me--though it wasn't really allowed--but they let me do it, because there was nowhere else for me to stay; and in the morning I came away again, and because it was Boxing Day, the trains were very bad and very slow, and I did not get to Merlands Station till ever so late; and then I walked here." "Walked here? From Merlands? But, my dear, it must be seven miles." "It seemed like a hundred," Christina answered wearily. "I didn't know how to get myself along at last; and it blew and rained, and I thought I should die on the road. Only I wanted to get to you." Margaret's caressing hand again stroked the girl's dark hair. "You poor little thing," she said. "I am glad you came to me, but I am sorry you came away at all. It will make things so much worse for you."