“I chosen!  Why, do you suppose I have anything to do with it?  Don’t take up that notion, Afy.  Mr. Ball put that subpoena in my hand, and told me to serve it.  He might have given it to the other clerk, just as he gave it to me; it was all chance.  If I could do you a good turn I’d do it—­not a bad one.”

Afy strode on at railroad speed, waving him off.  “Mind you don’t fail, Afy,” he said, as he prepared to return.

“Fail,” answered she, with flashing eyes.  “I shall fail giving evidence, if you mean that.  They don’t get me up to their justice-room, neither by force or stratagem.”

Ebenezer James stood and looked after her as she tore along.

“What a spirit that Afy has got, when it’s put up!” quoth he.  “She’ll be doing as she said—­make off—­unless she’s stopped.  She’s a great simpleton!  Nothing particular need come out about her and Thorn, unless she lets it out herself in her tantrums.  Here comes Ball, I declare!  I must tell him.”

On went Afy, and gained Mrs. Latimer’s.  That lady, suffering from indisposition was confined to the house.  Afy, divesting herself of certain little odds and ends of her finery, made her way into Mrs. Latimer’s presence.

“Oh, ma’am, such heartrending news as I have had!” began she.  “A relation of mine is dying, and wants to see me.  I ought to be away by the next train.”

“Dear me!” cried Mrs. Latimer, after a pause of dismay.  “But how can I do without you, Afy?”

“It’s a dying request, ma’am,” pleaded Afy, covering her eyes with her handkerchief—­not the lace one—­as if in the depth of woe.  “Of course I wouldn’t ask you under any other circumstances, suffering as you are!”

“Where is it to!” asked Mrs. Latimer.  “How long shall you be away?”

Afy mentioned the first town that came uppermost, and “hoped” she might be back to-morrow.

“What relation is it?” continued Mrs. Latimer.  “I thought you had no relatives, except Joyce and your aunt, Mrs. Kane.”

“This is another aunt,” cried Afy, softly.  “I have never mentioned her, not being friends.  Differences divided us.  Of course that makes me all the more anxious to obey her request.”

An uncommon good hand at an impromptu tale was Afy.  And Mrs. Latimer consented to her demand.  Afy flew upstairs, attired herself once more, put one or two things in a small leather bag, placed some money in her purse, and left the house.

Sauntering idly on the pavement on the sunny side of the street was a policeman.  He crossed over to Afy, with whom he had a slight acquaintance.

“Good-day, Miss Hallijohn.  A fine day, is it not?”

“Fine enough,” returned Afy, provoked at being hindered.  “I can’t talk to you now, for I am in a hurry.”

The faster she walked, the faster he walked, keeping at her side.  Afy’s pace increased to a run.  His increased to a run too.

“Whatever are you in such haste over?” asked he.