"Oh, it wouldn't help matters," said Fred, adding with an air of conclusiveness, "There it is!" Then adjusting the folds of his blanket to a greater dignity, and replacing his long extinct large pipe between his teeth, he went on his way. The tail of his blanket followed him reluctantly through the door. His bare feet padded across the hall and became inaudible on the carpet of the stairs. "Fred!" said Melville, going doorward with a sudden afterthought for fuller particulars. But Fred had gone. Instead, Mrs. Bunting appeared. II She appeared with traces of recent emotion. "I telegraphed," she said. "We are in dreadful trouble." "Miss Waters, I gather----" "She's gone." She went towards the bell and stopped. "They'll get luncheon as usual," she said. "You will be wanting your luncheon." She came towards him with rising hands. "You can _not_ imagine," she said. "That poor child!" "You must tell me," said Melville. "I simply do not know what to do. I don't know where to turn." She came nearer to him. She protested. "All that I did, Mr. Melville, I did for the best. I saw there was trouble. I could see that I had been deceived, and I stood it as long as I could. I _had_ to speak at last." My cousin by leading questions and interrogative silences developed her story a little. "And every one," she said, "blames me. Every one." "Everybody blames everybody who does anything, in affairs of this sort," said Melville. "You mustn't mind that." "I'll try not to," she said bravely. "_You_ know, Mr. Melville----" He laid his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "Yes," he said very impressively, and I think Mrs. Bunting felt better. "We all look to you," she said. "I don't know what I should do without you." "That's it," said Melville. "How do things stand? What am I to do?" "Go to him," said Mrs. Bunting, "and put it all right." "But suppose--" began Melville doubtfully. "Go to her. Make her see what it would mean for him and all of us." He tried to get more definite instructions. "Don't make difficulties," implored Mrs. Bunting. "Think of that poor girl upstairs. Think of us all." "Exactly," said Melville, thinking of Chatteris and staring despondently out of the window. "Bunting, I gather----" "It is you or no one," said Mrs. Bunting, sailing over his unspoken words. "Fred is too young, and Randolph--! He's not diplomatic. He--he hectors." "Does he?" exclaimed Melville. "You should see him abroad. Often--many times I have had to interfere.... No, it is you. You know Harry so well. He trusts you. You can say things to him--no one else could say." "That reminds me. Does _he_ know----" "We don't know. How can we know? We know he is infatuated, that is all. He is up there in Folkestone, and she is in Folkestone, and they may be meeting----" My cousin sought counsel with himself. "Say you will go?" said Mrs. Bunting, with a hand upon his arm. "I'll go," said Melville, "but I don't see what I can do!"