"There, there, do you hear that? 'We.' Gentlemen," cried McVay, throwing
up his hands, "I cannot leave my sister alone,--deserted. Consider it
all off."

"Oh, I wasn't to go?" asked Cecilia, looking up with more enthusiasm.

"My dear," replied McVay, "I must own that I was base enough to consider
a plan that would separate us. The mine, it seems, is no place for
ladies. But we will think no more about it. I see by your manner that
your feelings..."

"Dear Billy," said the girl gently, "you must not give it up. You know
that I can always go to the Lees, until--until I get a position. And
nothing is so important as that you should have work that is
satisfactory to you. Of course you must accept."

"Did you ever hear anything so noble?" asked McVay. "Yes, I suppose I
ought to accept. So they both tell me. I must go, mustn't I, Hen?"

"Well, it looks like it would be better for you if you did," replied the
detective, who had fortunately his legitimate share of American humour.

"There is another point, Cecilia," McVay went on, "if I do accept, I
shall have to leave at once. When did you say, Hen?"

"Train to New York this afternoon,--steamer sails to-morrow."

"Oh, dear. That's very sudden," said Cecilia.

"At a word from you, dear, I'll give it up," remarked McVay.