"Elsie," said Arthur, "I don't want you to be vexed. You are very young, and—and—well, I am older. There was really no cause for you to worry last night. This house is as safe as a—a hank. Kew is a very quiet, respectable sort of place, and such things as burglars are almost unknown. I—I—was going to telegraph you that I was unable to return, but—but—"
"But what?"—sharply.
"I was afraid a telegram might alarm you. Now, Elsie, there is not a soul who knows anything about this—this—this affair, and I would not talk about it."
"Talk about it?" I exclaimed in angry surprise. "With whom?"
"W-with anybody. With your mother, for example."
"Oh, no," I laughed satirically. "It would not interest her. I am not a gossip, Arthur. Our affairs can interest nobody but ourselves."
"You are a thoroughly sensible girl, Elsie," said Arthur, with what sounded like a little sigh of relief. "Now, hurry with your breakfast,
