thing. I can't keep a single possession to myself. They've made away with
my stick, now!"

"Stick, dear? What stick?" Linda's vagueness on these occasions could not
be real, Stanley decided. Would nobody sympathize with him?

"Coach! Coach, Stanley!" Beryl's voice cried from the gate.

Stanley waved his arm to Linda. "No time to say good-bye!" he cried. And
he meant that as a punishment to her.

He snatched his bowler hat, dashed out of the house, and swung down the
garden path. Yes, the coach was there waiting, and Beryl, leaning over the
open gate, was laughing up at somebody or other just as if nothing had
happened. The heartlessness of women! The way they took it for granted it
was your job to slave away for them while they didn't even take the trouble
to see that your walking-stick wasn't lost. Kelly trailed his whip across
the horses.

"Good-bye, Stanley," called Beryl, sweetly and gaily. It was easy enough
to say good-bye! And there she stood, idle, shading her eyes with her
hand. The worst of it was Stanley had to shout good-bye too, for the sake
of appearances. Then he saw her turn, give a little skip and run back to
the house. She was glad to be rid of him!

Yes, she was thankful. Into the living-room she ran and called "He's
gone!" Linda cried from her room: "Beryl! Has Stanley gone?" Old Mrs.
Fairfield appeared, carrying the boy in his little flannel coatee.

"Gone?"