She decided that as she had enough money to carry her on for some time, she would only stay to get food at Minton, and then set out for the next town on the way to London. For the more she thought of Bostock's wild beasts and his advertisement for girls to train, of which she had heard in the public house where she had sung, the keener she became to apply for the post, and the more impatient of any delay. CHAPTER III ANGEL MISS GREGSON dropped her knitting on to her knee and surveyed her former pupil critically as she stood leaning against the window. What a picture the girl made! The back of her head was particularly pretty, as little curls lay at the nape of her neck and shone with streaks of gold. She was slim and tall and graceful in all her movements. "How pretty she is!" sighed her companion. "But how unstable!" Miss Gregson had been sent for when Mr. Dennison, Sheila's uncle, had died, and knowing, and loving the girl she had hastened to Friars Court to find her former pupil full of tears and regrets that, during her uncle's lifetime she had not thought more of him and of his comfort. She reproached herself with sobs for having indulged so much in her own pleasures and interests to the exclusion of his; and had been so absorbed in them that she had not noticed how much her uncle was failing in health till a week before he died. Once aroused, however, she had thrown up all her engagements and had devoted herself to him. She was so depressed and unlike herself for the first week or two after his death, that Miss Gregson had hoped that the sharp lesson she had had was about to change her former pupil's whole view of life and duty, and was gratified when Sheila asked her to stay on with her and act as her chaperon. During the weeks that followed Miss Gregson had looked in vain for her hopes to be realized. No sooner had the girl entered into her inheritance, for Mr. Dennison had left the whole of his property to her, than she regained her usual high spirits, and began to propound to her harried companion all kinds of wild and impossible schemes. Happily she tired of the thought of them before she had time to carry them out; but many a time her long-suffering chaperon felt her heart sink at some of the proposals. As now she sat gazing at the girl, who stood looking out of the window with a somewhat plaintive expression of face, Miss Gregson was taken aback by her companion suddenly turning round upon her, her eyes full of mischief and raillery. "No," she said, "I shall never tire of you, you are so delightfully quaint." "Quaint, my dear?" questioned Miss Gregson, taking up her knitting again. "Yes, quaint. You would never guess the real reason that prompted me to ask you to stay on with me. It was your homoeopathic box that did it." Miss Gregson looked up perplexed.