“Dear Juliet,--I am sorry that I am unable to carry out my promise to come and see you, but I have been slightly indisposed for some days, and am leaving London, for the present, almost at once. I trust that you are still interested in your work, and will enjoy your trip to Normandy. “I received your letter, asking for my help towards re-establishing in life a poor family in whom you are interested. I regret that I cannot accede to your request. It is wholly against my principles to give money away to people of this class. I look upon all charity as a mischievous attempt to tamper with natural laws, and I am convinced that if everyone shared my views, society would long ago have been re-established on a sounder and more logical basis. To be quite frank with you, also, I might add that the gift of sympathy has been denied to me. I am quite indifferent whether the family you allude to starve or prosper. “So far as you yourself are concerned, however, the matter is entirely different. If it gives you pleasure to assist in pauperizing any number of your fellow creatures, pray do so. I enclose a check for L100. It is a present to you. Use it entirely as you please--only, if you use it for the purpose suggested in your letter to me, remember that the responsibility is yours, and yours alone.--I remain, sincerely yours, Wingrave Seton.” Juliet walked straight to her writing table. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were wet with tears. She drew out a sheet of note paper and wrote rapidly:-- “My dear guardian,--I return you the check. I cannot accept such presents after all your goodness to me. I am sorry that you feel as you do about giving money away. You are so much older and wiser than I am that I dare not attempt to argue with you. Only it seems to me that life would be a cruelly selfish thing if we who are so much more fortunate than many of our fellow creatures did not sometimes try to help them a little through their misery. Perhaps I feel this a little more keenly because I wonder sometimes what might not have become of me but for your goodness. “I am sorry that you are going away without coming to see me again. You are not displeased with me, I hope, for asking you this, or for any other reason? I am foolish enough to feel a little lonely sometimes. Will you take me out again when you come back?--Your affectionate ward, Juliet.” Juliet went out and posted her letter. On the way back she met Aynesworth. “Come and sit in the Park for a few minutes,” he begged. She turned and walked by his side willingly enough. “Have you been in to see me?” she asked. “Yes!” he answered. “I have some tickets for the Haymarket for tonight. Do you think we could persuade Mrs. Tresfarwin to come?” “I’m sure we could,” she answered, laughing. “Hannah never wants any persuading. How nice of you to think of us!” “I am afraid,” he answered, “that I think of you a good deal.” “Then I think that that also is very nice of you!” she declared.