'What! you all know it already?' exclaimed Ida. 'Everybody is talking about it, miss. The young ladies are all on your side; but they dare not speak up before Miss Pew.' 'I suppose not. Yes, it is quite true; I am expelled, Eliza; sent out into the world without a character, because I allowed Mr. Wendover to walk and talk with the Fräulein and me for half an hour or so in the river-meadow! Mr. Wendover, my best, my only friend's first cousin. Rather hard, isn't it?' Hard? it's shameful,' cried the girl. 'I should like to see old Pew turning me off for keeping company with my young man. But she daren't do it. Good servants are hard to get nowadays; or any servants, indeed, for the paltry wages she gives.' 'And governesses are a drug in the market,' said Ida, bitterly. 'Good-bye, Eliza.' 'Where are you going, miss? Home?' 'Yes; I suppose so.' The reckless tone, the careless words alarmed the good-hearted housemaid. 'Oh, miss, pray go home, straight home--wherever your home is. You are too handsome to be going about alone among strangers. It's a wicked world, miss--wickeder than you know of, perhaps. Have you got money enough to get you home comfortable?' 'I'll see,' answered Ida, taking out Miss Cobb's fat little purse and looking into it. There were two sovereigns and a good deal of silver--a tremendous fortune for a schoolgirl; but then it was said that Cobb Brothers coined money by the useful art of brewing. 'Yes; I have plenty of money for my journey,' said Ida. 'Are you certain sure, now, miss?' pleaded the housemaid; 'for if you ain't, I've got a pound laid by in my drawer ready to put in the Post Office Savings Bank, and you're as welcome to it as flowers in May, if you'll take it off me.' 'God bless you, Eliza. If I were in any want of money, I'd gladly borrow your sovereign; but Miss Cobb has lent me more than I want. Good-bye.' Ida held out her hand, which the housemaid, after wiping her own paw upon her apron, clasped affectionately. 'God bless you, Miss Palliser,' she said fervently; 'I shall miss the sight of your handsome face when I waits at table.' A minute more and Ida stood in the broad carriage sweep, with her back to the stately old mansion which had sheltered her so long, and in which, despite her dependency and her poverty, she had known some light-hearted hours. Now, where was she to go? and what was she to do with her life? She stood with the autumn wind blowing about her--the fallen chestnut leaves drifting to her feet--pondering that question.