Her Lord and Master

by Martha Morton

"Oh, I'm so excited!" exclaimed Indiana. "I love uncertainty of any kind."

"Women are born gamblers," observed Glen, fastening her wrap under her chin. Jennings entered, in answer to the bell.

"Jennings," said Indiana, with an indifferent air, "there's—there's a note on the table for—your master."

"Yes, yer little leddyship."

"Er—I shall be—"

"I hear someone coming downstairs," whispered Glen. "Quick, or Bluebeard will cut off our heads!"

"I feel like a bad boy, playing truant," laughed Indiana. "Scoot!" They ran, giggling quietly, into the hall. Jennings, with a horror-stricken face, tottered to the window, pushed aside the curtains hastily, and pressed his face against the glass.

Lord Stafford, entering the library then, saw him in this position and heard the sound of wheels. "Who's driving off, Jennings?"

Jennings started. "Her—her—little leddyship."

Lord Stafford looked at him incredulously. He had just been talking with Thurston, and Indiana was not likely to go out without him. They always remained at home on Sunday nights. "Impossible!"