"And father never told me a word about it," she ended; "and I wasn't going to stay to be made to wash the dishes and things, like Cinderella. I wouldn't stand that, not if I had to run away every day for a year. Besides, nobody wants me; nobody will miss me." This was about the time when they found the white geranium in the churchyard, and began to send grooms about the country on horses. And Murchison was striding about the lanes gnawing his grizzled beard and calling on his God to take him, too, if harm had come to the child. "But perhaps the stepmother would be nice," the boy said. "Not she. Stepmothers never are. I know just what she'll be like--a horrid old hag with red hair and a hump!" "Then you've not seen her?" "No." "You might have waited till you had." "It would have been too late then," said Charling tragically. "But your father wouldn't have let you be treated unkindly, silly." "Fathers generally die when the stepmother comes; or else they can't help themselves. You know that as well as I do." "I suppose your father is a good sort?" "He's the best man there is," said Charling indignantly, "and the kindest and bravest, and cleverest and amusingest, and he can sit any horse like wax; and he can fence with real swords, and sing all the songs in all the world. There!" Harry was silent, racking his brain for arguments. "Look here, kiddie," he said slowly, "if your father's such a good sort, he'd have more sense than to choose a stepmother who wasn't nice. He's a much finer chap than the fathers in fairy tales. You never read of _them_ being able to do all the things your father can do." "No," said Charling, "that's true." "He's sure to have chosen someone quite jolly, really," Harry went on, more confidently. Charling looked up suddenly. "Who was it chose the chap that you weren't going to stand having set over you?" she said. The boy bit his lip. "I swore eternal friendship, so I can never tell your secrets, you know," said Charling softly, "and _I've_ told _you_ every single thing." "Well, it's my sister, then," said he abruptly, "and she's married a chap I've never seen--and I'm to go and live with them, if you please; and she told me once she was never going to marry, and it was always going to be just us two; and now she's found this fellow she knew when she was a little girl, and he was a boy--as it might be us, you know--and she's forgotten all about what she said, and married him. And I wasn't even asked to the beastly wedding because they wanted to be married quietly; and they came home from their hateful honeymoon this evening, and the holidays begin to-day, and I was to go to this new chap's house to spend them. And I only got her letter this morning, and I just took my journey money and ran away. My boxes were sent on straight from school, though--so I've got no clothes but these. I'm just going to look at the place where she's to live, and then I'm off to sea." "Why didn't she tell you before?"