"Got the sack?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn, rearranging the tablecloth. "No. She’s only"--Tilly’s voice quavered ever so slightly--"going to be married. I’ve got her place, and I ’m once more an independent lady." "That’s capital news, Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn heartily. At any rate, her daughter would have something to occupy her mind. "Now the next thing to do," proceeded Tilly with great animation, "is to get rid of the broker’s man. We ought to be able to raise the money all right. I’m at work again. Dad has had an offer of newspaper articles; and if only we can get Mr. Pumpherston’s room let--" "The broker’s man has gone, Sis," said Amelia. "Gone?" cried Tilly and Mrs. Welwyn in a breath. "Well, gone out, anyhow. I saw him shuffling across the Square half an hour ago." "My lord will find the chain up when he comes back," said Mrs. Welwyn grimly. "Still, we must find the money," persisted Tilly. "We have never been in debt yet, and we are never going to be." Her slight figure stiffened proudly. "Independence! That’s the only thing worth having in this world. Be independent! Owe nothing to nobody!" Certainly, whether she derived it from her father’s ancestry or her mother’s solid worth, Tilly Welwyn was composed of good fibre. With flushed cheeks and unnaturally bright eyes she turned to the mirror over the drawing-room mantelpiece and began to take off her hat. "It’s a mystery to me," ruminated the puzzled Mrs. Welwyn, "why that creature went out. He must have known we would n’t let him in again." "Perhaps Dicky kicked him out," suggested that small hero-worshipper, Amelia, with relish. Tilly turned sharply. "Who?" she asked. A hatpin tinkled into the fender. Little ’Melia bit her lip, and turned scarlet. "Mr. Dick, dearie," said Mrs. Welwyn, coming to the rescue. "He looked in this morning." "What for?" asked Tilly, groping for the hatpin. "I don’t know. I did n’t see him," admitted her mother reluctantly. "I do," said ’Melia, having decided to get things over at once. "He left a letter for you, Sis." Tilly rose to her feet again, keeping her back to her audience. "Where is it?" she enquired unsteadily. "Here," said Amelia, with a hand in the pocket of her pinafore. "Put it on the table," said Tilly, standing on tiptoe while she patted her brown hair into position before the glass. "I’ll read it presently." "There’s the front-door bell!" said Mrs. Welwyn nervously. "What are we to do if it’s Russell again?" "Lock the door," said Amelia promptly. "I don’t know, I’m sure," said Mrs. Welwyn doubtfully. "I wonder what the law is. I wish Daddy was in." She considered, perplexed. "Anyhow, I’ll go down and see. Come with me, ’Melia," she added tactfully. The pair slipped out of the room and went downstairs, leaving Tilly alone with her letter. "Supposing he rushes in the moment we open the door?" whispered Amelia, as they consulted on the mat. "What then?"