"I don't know, I am sure," cried Miss Herrick, who was deeply alarmed. "I can't imagine what it is, unless it is about her father. Miss Rice says she talks in her sleep about his not coming home to her." "And he ought to come home to her," said the doctor, who had been a friend of Edward Herrick's when they were boys. "What right has a man to shirk his responsibilities in this way?" "Poor Edward!" began Miss Herrick. "Fudge and fiddlesticks for 'poor Edward'!" exclaimed the doctor, walking about the room. "You have much more reason to say 'poor Elizabeth.' But I had better take myself off before I say anything to be sorry for. Good-morning." And the front door slammed before Miss Herrick had recovered from her astonishment at his last speech. She repeated his opinion of Elizabeth to her sister, and then she wrote, though much against her will, to Mrs. Redmond. She could not understand why the life with her father's sisters should not be the best thing in the world for Elizabeth, but apparently it was not. Several letters passed between Miss Herrick and Mrs. Redmond before matters were finally arranged, and until they were Elizabeth was told nothing. When everything was settled, even to the day and the train by which she was to go, Miss Herrick announced to her that she was to pay a visit of indefinite length to her aunt in Virginia. "Oh, I don't want to!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "That makes no difference," returned her aunt. "You must." "But I won't!" cried the child, stamping her foot. "You have no right to send me away from home." "Be quiet, Elizabeth! Your temper is becoming quite ungovernable. I hope your aunt Helen will be able to control you." "She will never have a chance, Aunt Caroline. Rather than go there I will run away from here--I will!" "Nonsense!" said Miss Herrick, and thought no more of the threat. Elizabeth left the room, pondering deeply. It would be quite impossible for her to go among strangers, and so far away. Her father might come home any day. She must be at home herself to receive him. And besides, she could not possibly go to live at her aunt Helen's house, where there were so many boys and girls, among them the incomparable Marjorie of whom Val had spoken so much. Elizabeth remembered all about her, although several months had elapsed since his visit. Her lonely life with its burden of grief and disappointment in regard to her father had told upon her even more than the doctor suspected. She dreaded going among people whom she did not know, and at this distance Valentine also seemed a stranger. Anything would be preferable to going to Virginia, even life at the Bradys', her only friends.