'My lady, papa is come, and I am going away; and, my lady, I wish you
good-night, and thank you for your kindness. Your ladyship's kindness,
I mean,' she said, correcting herself as she remembered Miss Browning's
particular instructions as to the etiquette to be observed to earls and
countesses, and their honourable progeny, as they were given this
morning on the road to the Towers.

She got out of the saloon somehow; she believed afterwards, on thinking
about it, that she had never bidden good-by to Lady Cuxhaven, or Mrs.
Kirkpatrick, or 'all the rest of them,' as she irreverently styled them
in her thoughts.

Mr. Gibson was in the housekeeper's room, when Molly ran in, rather to
the stately Mrs. Brown's discomfiture. She threw her arms round her
father's neck. 'Oh, papa, papa, papa! I am so glad you have come;' and
then she burst out crying, stroking his face almost hysterically as if
to make sure he was there.

'Why, what a noodle you are, Molly! Did you think I was going to give
up my little girl to live at the Towers all the rest of her life? You
make as much work about my coming for you, as if you thought I had.
Make haste now, and get on your bonnet. Mrs. Brown, may I ask you for a
shawl, or a plaid, or a wrap of some kind to pin about her for a
petticoat?'

He did not mention that he had come home from a long round not half an
hour before, a round from which he had returned dinnerless and hungry;
but, on finding that Molly had not returned from the Towers, he had
ridden his tired horse round by Miss Brownings', and found them in
self-reproachful, helpless dismay. He would not wait to listen to their