"MISS GIPSY LATIMER, Briarcroft Hall, Greyfield, England." She read it twice before she realized its significance. Then, trembling violently, she sank on to a chair, and gave way to what very closely resembled a fit Of hysteria. "Fetch Miss Poppleton!" she cried to the alarmed servant who ran to the linen room at the sound of her wails. "Oh, dear! To think it's all my fault!" Miss Poppleton hurried to the scene at once, and though at first her sister's explanation was rather incoherent, she managed to grasp the main facts of the case. "It's Gipsy's missing letter, Dorothea! It must have come after all, you see, only I can't imagine how it got into Daisy Scatcherd's pocket. I don't remember looking in the pockets when I put the coat by. And it's been there all this time! Look, the postmark is Cape Town, 3 November. Oh, isn't it dreadful? And the poor, dear child has just run away! Dorothea, whatever are we to do about it?" moaned Miss Edith, almost beside herself with horror at her discovery. "In the circumstances I consider I am perfectly justified in reading the letter," replied Miss Poppleton, solemnly tearing open the envelope. "Why, here's an enclosure for me inside it!" The long-delayed missive was from Gipsy's father, and contained the very information for which Miss Poppleton had waited more than six weary months. Mr. Latimer informed her that he was on the point of starting with a pioneering expedition to prospect for minerals in the almost unexplored district at the sources of one of the tributaries of the Zambesi. It might be several months before he would be in any civilized place whence it would be possible for him to communicate with her again, but during his absence he was glad to know that his little daughter was left in good hands. For all expenses in connection with Gipsy's education, dress, and pocket-money, he begged to refer her to his London bankers, Messrs. Hall & Co. of Lombard Street, who had instructions to settle the account as soon as submitted to them. "I hope my girlie will behave well, and give no trouble," he wrote. "She is generally ready to attach herself to anybody who is kind to her." Miss Poppleton turned a dull crimson as she finished reading the letter, and handed it to Miss Edith. "I must question Daisy Scatcherd at once," she remarked peremptorily. "I can't understand how the letter came to be in her pocket at all." The luckless Daisy, subjected to a searching examination, could at first render no account of how she came to be mixed up in the affair. Then little by little a vague remembrance returned to her, and she began dimly to recall the circumstances.