As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears
gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes.

"If you are in earnest, Thames," she replied, with a look of gentle
reproach, "you are very foolish; and, if in jest, very cruel. My mother,
I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings. She loves you too well
for that. And I'll answer for it, she'll never say a syllable to annoy
you again."

Thames tried to answer her, but his voice failed him.

"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up.

"You're mistaken, Winny. Nothing can alter my determination. I shall
quit this roof to-morrow."

The little girl's countenance fell.

"Do nothing without consulting my father--_your_ father, Thames," she
implored. "Promise me that."

"Willingly. And what's more, I promise to abide by his decision."

"Then, I'm quite easy," cried Winifred, joyfully.

"I'm sure he won't attempt to prevent me," rejoined Thames.

The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that
_she_ was not quite so sure. But she made no answer.