I said I would remember it, and thanked her warmly for a pleasant evening, at Miss Sellars' request calling her Ma.
Outside, Miss Sellars agreed that my presentiment had proved correct—that I had not shone to advantage. Our journey home on a tramcar was a somewhat silent proceeding. At the door of her room she forgave me, and kissed me good night. Had I been frank with her, I should have thanked her for that evening's experience. It had made my course plain to me.
The next day, which was Thursday, I wandered about the streets till two o'clock in the morning, when I slipped in quietly, passing Miss Sellars' door with my boots in my hand.
After Mr. Lott's departure on Friday, which, fortunately, was pay-day, I set my desk in order and confided to Minikin written instructions concerning all matters unfinished.
“I shall not be here to-morrow,” I told him. “Going to follow your advice.”
“Found anything to do?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I answered.
“Suppose you can't get anything?”
“If the worst comes to the worst,” I replied, “I can hang myself.”
“Well, you know the girl. Maybe you are right,” he agreed.