"Mrs. Ball has been more careful of me than she'd be of gold," went on Vera, her blue eyes dancing. "The eldest daughter, Louise, is at home now: she teaches music in a school: and, if you'll believe me, Coral, the old mother would never let me stir out without Louise. When Edward Pym came up in the evening to take me for a walk, Louise must go with us. 'I feel responsible to your papa and sister, my dear,' the old woman would say to me. Oh, she was a veritable dragon." "Was Louise with you when you went on board the _Rose of Delhi_ yesterday afternoon?" cried Coralie, while I began to put away the chessmen. Verena opened her eyes. "How _did_ you hear of that? No, we tricked Louise for once. Edward had fifty things to say to me, and he wanted me alone. After dinner he proposed that we should go to afternoon service. I made haste, and went out with him, calling to Louise that she'd catch us up before we reached the church, and we ran off in just the contrary direction. "I should like to show you my ship," Edward said; and we went down in an omnibus. Mrs. Ball shook her head when we got back, and said I must never do it again. As if I should have the chance, now Edward's gone!" Coralie glanced at her. "He _is_ gone, I suppose?" "Yes," sighed Vera. "The ship left the docks this morning. He took leave of me last night." Coralie looked doubtful. She glanced again at her sister under her eyelids. "Then--if Edward Pym is no longer here to take walks with you, Vera, how is it you came home so late to-night?" "Because I have been to a concert," cried Vera, her tone as gay as a lark's. "Louise and I started to walk here this afternoon. I wanted you to see her; she is really very nice. Coming through Fitzroy Square, she called upon some friends of hers who live there, the Barretts--he is a professor of music. Mrs. Barrett was going to a concert to-night and she said if we would stay she'd take us. So we had tea with her and went to it, and they sent me home in a cab." "You seem to be taking your pleasure!" remarked Coralie. "I had such an adventure downstairs," cried Verena, dropping her voice after a pause of thought. "Nearly fell into the arms of papa." "What--now?" "Now; two minutes ago. While hesitating whether to softly tinkle the kitchen-bell and smuggle myself in and up to my room, or to storm the house with a bold summons, Ozias drew open the front-door. He looked so glad to see me, poor stupid old fellow. I was talking to him in the passage when I heard papa's cough. 'Oh, hide yourself, Missee Vera,' cried Ozias, 'the master, he so angry;' and away I rushed into papa's little library, seeing the door of it open----" "He has come out of it, then!" interjected Coralie. "I thought papa would go upstairs," said Vera. "Instead of that, he came on into the room. I crept behind the old red window-curtains, and----" "And what?" asked Coralie, for Verena made a sudden pause.