But the tone Mr. Wedmore chose to take was that of utter contempt, complete irresponsibility.  When his son had finished speaking he waited as if to hear whether there was any more to come, and then abruptly turned his back upon him and began to poke the fire.

“Very well,” said he, with an affectation of extreme calmness.  “Since you have made up your mind, the sooner you begin to carry out your plans the better.  I’m very glad to see that you have a mind to make up.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Max.

And he was turning to leave the room, when his mother sprang forward and stopped him.

“No, no!  Don’t go like that!  My boy!  George!  Don’t say good-bye yet.  Take a little time.  Let him try a little trouble of his own for a change.  He has made up his mind, he says.  I’m sure he’s old enough.  Leave him alone.”

Max put his arm round his mother, gave her a warm kiss, disengaged himself, and left the room.

The poor woman was almost hysterical.

“He means it, George!  He means it this time!” she moaned.

And her husband, though he laughed at her, and though he said to himself that he did not care, was inclined to agree with her.

Max went straight up to his own room, and began to do his packing with much outward cheerfulness.  Indeed he felt no depression over the dashing step he was taking, although he felt sore over the parting with home and his mother and sisters.

He was debating within himself whether he should try to see Carrie before he went, or whether he should only leave a note to be given to her after he was gone, when he heard the voice of his sister Doreen calling him.  He threw open the door and shouted back.

She was in the hall.

“Max,” cried she, in a hissing whisper, “I want to speak to you.  Make haste!”

He ran downstairs and found her standing with two of the maids, both of whom looked rather frightened.

“Max,” said Doreen, “there’s an old woman hanging about the place—­” Max started.  He guessed what was coming.  “The same old woman that came at Christmas time.  She jumped up in the well-house at Anne, and sent her into hysterics.  And now they’ve lost sight of her, just as they did last time, and we want you to help to ferret her out and send her away.”

“All right,” said Max.  “We’ll pack her off.”

He was at the bottom of the staircase by this time, and was starting on his way to the yard, when a little scream from one of the two maids, as she glanced up the stairs, made him look around.  Carrie had come down so lightly and so swiftly that she was upon the group before they had heard a sound.  She beckoned to Max, who came back at once.

Carrie was shaking like a leaf; her eyes were wide with alarm, with terror.  Max went up a few stairs, to be out of hearing of the others, as she seemed to wish.  Then she whispered: 

“You know who it is.  I saw her.  Leave her alone.  I implore you to leave her alone!  She’ll do no harm.  Let her rest.  Let the poor creature rest.  If—­if the police—­”