‘Then please kiss me again now you do know!’ said Fly, holding up her funny little face to that very lovable kind one, and they were all soon absorbed in the difficulty of getting the tree in at the front door, and setting it up in the room that had been prepared for it. Dolores had hoped to confide her alarms to Constance’s sympathetic ear, but her friend, who had written and dreamt of many a magnificently titled scion of the peerage, but had never before seen one in her own house, had not a minute to spare for her, being far too much engrossed in observing the habits of the animal. These certainly were peculiar, since she insisted on a waltz round the room with the tabby cat, and ascended a step-ladder, merrily spurning Jasper’s protection, to insert the circle of tapers on the crowning chandelier. There was nothing left for Dolores to do but to sit by in the window-seat, philosophizing on the remarkable effects of a handle to one’s name, and feeling cruelly neglected. Suddenly she saw a fly coming up to the gate. There was a general peeping and wondering. Then Uncle Reginald and a stranger got out and came up to the door. There was a ring--everybody paused and wondered for a moment; then the maid tapped at the door and said, ‘Would Miss Mohun come and speak to Colonel Mohun a minute in the drawing-room?’ There was a hush of dread throughout the room. ‘Ah!’ sighed Miss Hacket, looking at Gillian, and all the elders thought without saying that some terrible news of her father had to be told to the poor child. They let her go, frightened at the summons, but that idea not occurring to her. ‘There!’ said Uncle Regie, ‘she can set it straight. Don’t be frightened, my dear; only tell this gentleman whether that is your writing.’ The stranger held a strip so that she could only just see ‘Dolores M. Mohun,’ and she unhesitatingly answered ‘Yes’--very much surprised. ‘You are sure?’ said her uncle, in a tone of disappointment that made her falter, as she added, ‘I think so.’ At the same time the stranger turned the paper round, and she knew it for the cheque that had so long resided in her desk, but with dilated eyes, she exclaimed, ‘But--but--that was for seven pounds!’ ‘That,’ said the stranger, ‘then, Miss Mohun, you know this draft?’ ‘Only it was for seven,’ repeated Dolores. ‘You mean, I conclude, that it was drawn for seven pounds, and that it was still for seven when it left your handy?’ ‘Yes,’ muttered Dolores, who was beginning to get very much frightened, at she knew not what, and to feel on her guard at all points. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of, my dear,’ said Uncle Reginald, tenderly; ‘nobody suspects you of anything. Only tell us. Did your father give you this paper?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And when did you cash it?’ asked the clerk. Dolores hung her head. ‘I didn’t,’ she said.