The third day of Dot's residence at the house, Mr Wooster came. He had called at the cottage, but Peggie had informed him her mistress was up at the house. So he turned his steps uphill. Dot talked a great deal and seemed in an excited mood, but he had no suspicion of the real state of affairs, and merely thought she was spending the afternoon at her mother's. But he was staying in the district again for his health, and when he came the next evening with a promised book for the little mother, she was there again. She was sitting at a table with a quantity of paper books and maps spread out before her. 'I am deciding which way to go home,' she said, in answer to his questioning glance, 'you have often said I ought to study in Italy.' He thought she was doing it for a pleasant mental recreation and only smiled. 'We go in about a month. Did not mother tell you?' she said, and followed up a dotted line through the Red Sea with a careful pen. He looked the surprise he felt. So friendly had he become with Dot and the little mother, that he felt quite hurt to be so tardily informed. 'Mr Armitage is fortunate to be able to get away,' was all he said and there was a little stiffness in his voice. Dot went slowly overland from Brindisi to Calais, then she looked up. 'No, he is not fortunate,' she said, 'for he cannot get away at all. I am going alone--at least, mother and I are going.' 'And your little boy of course?' Dot yawned with discernible difficulty. 'Oh,' she said lightly, 'children block the road to success, besides I must leave him as compensation to my husband while I hunt for fame.' He was too amazed to speak. Larrie had struck him as certainly the one other man in the world capable of fully appreciating the worshipfulness of this dear little girl. And to hear he was content to part with her like this after only eighteen months! He felt a sudden contempt for Larrie and an overwhelming sorrow for himself; what a very sweet little child she was with those soft flushed cheeks and wide darkening eyes! And to think there was a lifetime of hunger for one man because he could never touch one of those soft, boyish curls, and the other who had all of her, held her so lightly. 'I suppose you think it is a mad quest after my failure,' she said, finding him silent. But he disclaimed that. He was as assured of her ultimate success as ever, and knew that it was only through nervousness that she had failed to win immediate recognition. As it was, several of the best critics had spoken of her hopefully. 'No, you will succeed of course,' he said, quietly. He did not look at her, he was thinking, wondering whether he should be able to do without travelling too when Australia no longer held her. Then he wished hair shirts were sold by modern mercers, and thanked God she was going. He talked cheerfully of the route, advised the best places for study, the best masters, offered letters of introduction, and all manner of things.