"Well, dear," Mrs. Money said, "we'll ask your papa. If he knows this gentleman--this person--he can tell us what sort of man he is. It doesn't seem that he is in London now." "He may have come to-day," said Lucy. Miss Theresa looked at her watch. "Mamma dear, I don't think Miss Grey is coming in just yet, and it's growing late, and I have to attend the Ladies' Committee of the Saint Angulphus Association, at four." "You go, mamma, with Theresa," Lucy exclaimed. "I'll wait; I must see Nola. I begin to be alarmed. It's very odd her staying out. I think something must really have happened. That man may have been in town, waiting somewhere. You go. When I have seen Nola, and am satisfied that she is safe, I can get home in the omnibus, or the underground, or the steamboat, or somehow. I'll find my way, you may be sure." "My dear," her mother said, "you were never in an omnibus in your life." "Papa goes in omnibuses, and he says he doesn't care whether other people do or not." "But a lady, my dear----" "Oh, I've seen them in the streets full of women! They don't object to ladies at all." "But my dear young lady," Miss Blanchet pleaded, "there is not the slightest occasion for your staying. Mr. Sheppard isn't at all that kind of person. Minola is quite safe. She is often out much later than this, although I confess that I did expect her home much earlier to-day." "I'll stay till Nola comes," the positive little Lucy declared, "unless Miss Blanchet turns me out; and there's an end of that. So, mamma dear, you and Tessy do as you please, and never mind me." "When Minola does come----" Mary Blanchet began to say. "When she does come?" Lucy interrupted in portentous accents. "Say if she does come, Miss Blanchet." "When she does come, please don't say anything of Mr. Sheppard. Of course she would not like to think that we spoke about such a subject." "Oh, of course, of course!" all the ladies chorused, with looks expressive of immense caution and discretion; and in true feminine fashion all honestly assuming that there could be nothing wrong in talking over anybody's supposed secrets so long as the person concerned did not know of the talk. "I see Miss Grey," said the quiet Theresa suddenly. She had been looking out of the window to see if the carriage was near. As a professed saint she had naturally less interest in ordinary human creatures than her mother and sister had. "Thank heaven!" Lucy exclaimed. "Dear Lucy!" Theresa interposed in tones of mild remonstrance, as if she would suggest that not everybody had a right to make reference to heaven, and that heaven would probably resent any allusion to it by the unqualified. "Well, I am thankful that she is coming all the same; but I wish you wouldn't call her Miss Grey, Tessy. It seems cold and unfriendly. Call her Nola, please."