“Dear little Miss Alicia:
“I've got to light out of here as quick as I can make it. I can't even stop to tell you why. There's just one thing—don't get rattled, Miss Alicia. Whatever any one says or does, don't get rattled.
“Yours affectionately,
“T. TEMBAROM.”
There was a silence, Mr. Palford passed the paper to his partner, who gave it careful study. Afterward he refolded it and handed it back to Miss Alicia.
“In a court of law,” was Mr. Palford's sole remark, “it would not be regarded as evidence for the defendant.”
Miss Alicia's tears were still streaming, but she held her ringleted head well up.
“I cannot stay! I beg your pardon, I do indeed!” she said. “But I must leave you. You see,” she added, with her fine little touch of dignity, “as yet this house is still Mr. Temple Barholm's home, and I am the grateful recipient of his bounty. Burrill will attend you and make you quite comfortable.” With an obeisance which was like a slight curtsey, she turned and fled.
In less than an hour she walked up the neat bricked path, and old Mrs. Hutchinson, looking out, saw her through the tiers of flower-pots in the window. Hutchinson himself was in London, but Ann was reading at the other side of the room.
“Here's poor little owd Miss Temple Barholm aw in a flutter,” remarked her grandmother. “Tha's got some work cut out for thee if tha's going to quiet her. Oppen th' door, lass.”