“Miss Heriton wants a change,” he answered abruptly. “She must go away from here, or she will have an illness. Take her to the seaside, Mrs. Blunden, and let my wards go with you. She will then have less time to be lonely and brood over her sorrows.” “Sorrows!” Mrs. Blunden ejaculated, almost angrily. “Good gracious! Why, she has none; or, if she has, it’s very unthankful of her! She knows I shall make a provision for her future, whether she marries or remains single, and I’m neither exacting nor ill-natured. Sorrows indeed!” “The young have many thoughts they do not always care to publish,” he replied evasively, “and Miss Heriton may have had troubles in her father’s lifetime which have robbed her of her natural cheerfulness.” “It’s more likely that the heat of the weather has affected her,” said Aunt Margaret, unable to enter into his ideas. “I’m afraid she has her mother’s delicate constitution. I was very inconsiderate not to think of that before. Poor child!” she added, all her better feelings awakening. “I’ve no doubt she has felt languid and poorly for some time, and would not confess it for fear of alarming me. I’ll have a physician from London directly, and he shall counsel me where to take her.” Accordingly Mrs. Blunden dispatched a telegram for one of the highest medical authorities, who arrived before the astonished Florence knew he was on his way. To please her aunt she saw him, although protesting that nothing ailed her. The physician pronounced her nerves weak, prescribed a simple tonic, agreed with Mrs. Blunden that sea air would prove efficacious, and drove away, and in another hour Orwell Court was in commotion, for the business of packing commenced directly, Aunt Margaret declaring that no time should be lost in effecting the contemplated change. Mr. Aylwinne, through the agency of a friend, secured them a charming cottage at Babbicombe Bay, and made every arrangement for the comfort of the party that his thoughtful consideration could devise. He had insisted that Mrs. Wilson should accompany them, although she strongly urged the impossibility of leaving him at Orwell Court alone. “Don’t be uneasy on my account,” he said; “I shall do very well. When I begin to get hipped and miss my comforts I will send for you.” “What’s that?” cried Mrs. Blunden, who had been engaged with some one else. “Hipped! Why should you be? Of course you will go with us.” No, he answered decidedly--he should not leave home until he had received some letters for which he was daily looking. “But you’ll join us?” He hesitated. He did not know. He could not say. He would be guided by circumstances. She was a little annoyed at her nonsuccess in prevailing with him, and bade him but a cold farewell. He either would not or did not notice this, but insisted on accompanying them to the railway station, at which, owing to Mrs. Blunden’s impatience, they arrived nearly half an hour before the train was due.