Mrs. Blake soon came out of her room with her bonnet and shawl on--the former one without a veil, which she excused on the ground that dew took the stiffening out of crape--"Leastways," she added, "the kind I wear." Tiger followed us, and more in mercy to him than the tired Daniel, I insisted on going home alone once we had got beyond the precincts of the Mill Road. I met with no further adventure, and reached my own room in safety, fondly hoping no one in the house was aware of my evening's ramble, and one that I determined should never be repeated. My cheeks burned even after my light was extinguished, and my head throbbed on the pillow at Mr. Winthrop's biting sarcasm if he knew the risk I had just run from bipeds and quadrupeds, with Daniel Blake, his mother and dog as body-guard past the danger of Mill Road ruffianism. CHAPTER X. A HELPING HAND. The following morning I went down to breakfast with some trepidation, and feeling very much like a culprit. Mrs. Flaxman came into the room first, and in her mild, incurious fashion said: "We were hunting for you last evening. Mr. Winthrop wished to see you about something." I did not reply, neither did she inquire where I had bestowed myself out of reach of their voices. I felt certain Mr. Winthrop's curiosity would be more insistent, and was quite right in my conjectures. He came in as usual, just on the minute, and seating himself, went through with the formality of grace; but before our plates were served, he turned to me and rather sternly said: "Are you in the habit of going out for solitary night rambles?" "I never did but once," I faltered, too proudly honest to give an evasive answer. "That once, I presume, occurred last night?" "Yes." "Strictly speaking, it wanted just five minutes to nine when you slipped stealthily into the side entrance." I sat, culprit-like, in silence, while his eyes were watching me closely. "Don't you think two hours a long time to be loitering about the garden in the dark?" "You must not be too hard on Medoline," Mrs. Flaxman interposed. "It is an instinct with young folk to stray under the starlight and dream their dreams. No doubt we both have been guilty of doing it in our time." I flashed Mrs. Flaxman a look of gratitude, and wondered at the naive way she counted Mr. Winthrop with herself, as if he too had arrived at staid middle-agehood. "Dreaming under stars and wandering around in attendance on widows are two very different occupations," he said, quietly, and without a break in his voice asked Mrs. Flaxman what he should help her to. I swallowed my breakfast--what little I could eat--with the feeling that possibly each succeeding mouthful might choke me; but full hearts do not usually prove fatal, even at meal time.