Reluctantly, but with curiosity, Emmeline glanced over the sheet.  Mr. Cobb wrote in ignorance of Miss Derrick’s having left home.  It was a plain, formal letter, giving a brief account of his doings in Ireland, and making a request that Louise would meet him, if possible, on Streatham Common, at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon.  And he signed himself—­’Very sincerely yours.’

‘I made up my mind at once,’ said the girl, ’that I wouldn’t meet him.  That kind of thing will have to stop.  I’m not going to think any more of him, and it’s better to make him understand it at once —­isn’t it?’

Emmeline heartily concurred.

‘Still,’ pursued the other, with an air of great satisfaction, ’I thought I had better go home for this afternoon.  Because when he didn’t see me on the Common he was pretty sure to call at the house, and I didn’t want mother or Cissy to be talking about me to him before he had heard my own explanation.’

‘Didn’t you answer the letter?’ asked Emmeline.

’No.  I just sent a line to mother, to let her know I was coming over to-day, so that she might stay at home.  Well, and it happened just as I thought.  Mr. Cobb came to the house at half-past three.  But before that I’d had a terrible row with Cissy.  That isn’t a nice expression, I know, but it really was one of our worst quarrels.  Mr. Bowling hasn’t been near since I left, and Cissy is furious.  She said such things that I had to tell her very plainly what I thought of her; and she positively foamed at the mouth!  “Now look here,” she said, “if I find out that he goes to Sutton, you’ll see what will happen.” “What will happen?” I asked.  “Father will stop your allowance, and you’ll have to get on as best you can.”  “Oh, very well,” I said, “in that case I shall marry Mr. Bowling.”  You should have seen her rage!  “You said you wouldn’t marry him if he had ten thousand a year!” she screamed.  “I dare say I did; but if I’ve nothing to live upon—­” “You can marry your Mr. Cobb, can’t you?” And she almost cried; and I should have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t made me so angry.  “No,” I said, “I can’t marry Mr. Cobb.  And I never dreamt of marrying Mr. Cobb.  And—­“’

Emmeline interposed.

’Really, Louise, that kind of talk isn’t at all ladylike.  What a pity you went home.’

’Yes, I was sorry for it afterwards.  I shan’t go again for a long time; I promise you I won’t.  However, Mr. Cobb came, and I saw him alone.  He was astonished when he heard what had been going on; he was astonished at me, too—­I mean, the way I spoke.  I wanted him to understand at once that there was nothing between us; I talked in rather a—­you know the sort of way.’  She raised her chin slightly, and looked down from under her eyelids.  ’Oh, I assure you I behaved quite nicely.  But he got into a rage, as he always does, and began to call me names, and I wouldn’t stand it.  “Mr. Cobb,” I said, very severely, “either