There was probably no one in all Lud-in-the-Mist who would suffer in the same degree from such a scandal in his family as Master Ambrose Honeysuckle. And there was something fine in the way he thus unflinchingly faced the possibility. Not for a moment did he think of hushing the matter up to shield his daughter's reputation. No, justice should run its course even if the whole town had to know that Ambrose Honeysuckle's only child--and she a girl, which seemed, somehow, to make it more horrible--had eaten fairy fruit. As to his vision of Duke Aubrey, that he dismissed as an hallucination due to his excited condition and perhaps, as well, to the hysterical atmosphere that seemed to lie like a thick fog over the Academy. Before he left Miss Primrose's parlour his eyes fell on the half embroidered slipper he had impatiently tossed away on the entrance of Prunella Chanticleer. He smiled grimly; perhaps, after all, it had not been due to mere foolish feminine fancy that the strawberries were purple instead of red. She may have had real models for her embroidery. He put the slipper in his pocket. It might prove of value in the law courts. But Master Ambrose was mistaken in supposing that the berries embroidered on the slipper were fairy fruit. CHAPTER VIII ENDYMION LEER LOOKS FRIGHTENED, AND A BREACH IS MADE IN AN OLD FRIENDSHIP Master Ambrose fully expected on reaching home to find that one of the grooms he had despatched after Moonlove had returned with her in safe custody. This, however, was not the case, and he was confronted with another frightful contingency. Moonlove had last been seen running, at a speed so great and so unflagging as to hint at some sustaining force that was more than human, due West. What if she were making for the Debatable Hills? Once across those hills she would never again be seen in Dorimare. He must go to Mumchance at once, and give the alarm. Search parties must immediately be sent to ransack the country from one end to the other. On his way out he was stopped by Dame Jessamine in the fretful complaining condition that he always found so irritating. "Where have you been, Ambrose?" she cried querulously. "First Moonlove screaming like a mad cockatoo! And then you rushing off, just after your dinner too, and leaving me like that in the lurch when I was so upset that I was on the verge of swooning! Where did you go to Ambrose?" and her voice grew shrill. "I do wish you would go to Miss Primrose and tell her she must not let Moonlove be such a tom-boy and play practical jokes on her parents ... rushing home in the middle of the day like that and talking such silly nonsense. She really is a very naughty girl to give us such a fright. I feel half inclined to go straight off to the Academy and give her a good scolding." "Stop chattering, Jessamine, and let me go," cried Master Ambrose. "Moonlove is not at the Academy."