TIMOTHY. 
199 
wish me to ’phone to Mirabel at once ? ” He 
turned to the telephone at his elbow* 
“ No, no.” She took a good grip of her 
courage. “ Mr. Wells, does Uncle John’s 
letter mention how long I am to be staying in 
London ? ” 
“ Not more than ten days, it says. But 
possibly you may extend ” 
She shook her head. “ One can’t do very 
much with London in ten days, can one?” 
“ Not a great deal. Still ” 
u But I want to do the utmost possible.” 
u Certainly. I’ll make that clear to my 
sisters ” 
“ Please, no ! ” For an instant the grey 
eyes danced, then became demure. “ Mr. 
Wells, I’m not ungrateful, and I don’t mean 
to be rude, but I’m going to be quite frank. 
I’d rather not be introduced to anybody. I 
called on you to please my uncle. Don’t 
misunderstand me,” she went on, quickly, at 
the sight of his crestfallen look, “ I’m glad 
I called, for I feel I have one friend in this 
great London. But one friend is all I want. 
You see, I have not come all the way from 
Boston just to make a few temporary acquain- 
tances, who would probably consider me a 
nuisance, and I can get plenty of tea-parties 
and so on at home.” She paused. 
“ Dear me ! ” said Timothy, helplessly. 
" In short, Mr. Wells,” she resumed, 
checking a smile, “ my desire is for ten days’ 
entire freedom. I shall see only the sights 1 
have a fancy to see ; I shall shop just where I 
want to shop ; and — 1 shall dine in a different 
restaurant and go to a different theatre every 
night.” 
u Good heavens ! Alone ? ” 
She nodded. “ You think my uncle would 
not approve ? Well, perhaps he wouldn’t, 
but then he won’t know anything about it 
until it is all over — that is, unless you 
But you wouldn’t do that, Mr. Wells ? ” 
“ Miss Gale,” said Timothy, desperately, 
“ it’s impossible ! In this part of the world 
a young lady cannot do what you propose 
doing. To go to restaurants and theatres 
without an escort ” 
“ Mr. Wells, I am nearly twenty-five — and 
I’ll be fifty before 1 know where I am. For 
years I have been dreaming of doing this. 
When I’m old enough to do it more conven- 
tionally it won’t be worth doing. Until now 
1 have done my best to please other people. 
My aunt, who died last year, was a very diffe- 
rent person from my uncle : she permitted 
no. pleasures outside of a parlour. Does not 
that explain some of my madness ? ” 
“ I think I understand,” said Timothy, 
gently. “ At your age a craving for freedom 
is natural. But now, supposing, instead of 
finding me here, you had found my father, 
as your uncle anticipated ” 
“ But 1 thought you were your father 
until — oh, dear ! what am 1 saying ? ” 
“ Don’t worry about that,” he said, with a 
somewhat rueful smile. “ 1 take it that you 
would have expressed yourself to my father 
just as you have expressed yourself to me.” 
“ I came with that intention, Mr. Wells. 
I promised my uncle to call here, but 1 had 
just as surely promised myself that no one 
should turn me from my purpose.” 
Timothy sighed. “ But supposing — and 1 
think it would have happened — supposing 
my father had forthwith cabled your 
uncle ? ” 
“ It would have greatly upset Uncle John 
and made me uncomfortable ; otherwise it 
would have been a vain thing to do, for, you 
see, Mr. Wells, my uncle could not reach this 
side until my ten days were over.” She 
began to make those tiny preparations that 
with a woman presage departure. “ I’m 
afraid I have been a disagreeable visitor,” she 
remarked, kindly, for his discomfiture was 
apparent. u Please don’t worry about me. 
If I should find myself really at a loss I shall 
take the liberty of coming again, but do not 
let that unlikely possibility oppress you.” 
Smiling, she rose and held out her hand. 
“ And thank you ever so much.” 
In all his life Timothy had never felt more 
helpless. But he could not let her go like 
this. He got up, looking wretche i. 
“ Miss Gale, at least tell me what you intend 
doing now.” 
" Now ? Oh, I’m going to have a look at 
the Tower — it’s too wet for shopping. Then 
I’m going to see about seats at the theatres. 
Then ” 
“ Let — let. me show you the Tower.” 
Her hesitation was but momentary. 
“ Would you ? Can you spare so much 
time, Mr. Wells ? ” 
“ It will give me great pleasure,” he said, 
awkwardly. “ But before we go I must cable 
to your uncle.” He found a. form on his 
desk and filled in John Gale’s address, paused, 
then wrote : “ Miss Gale safely arrived. — 
Wells.” He handed the slip to her. i£ Will 
that do ? ” 
“ You are extravagant. Call me Florence. 
Your father would have done so, I’m sure,” 
she added, calmly. 
“ Florence,” murmured Timothy, and 
blushed as he made the alteration. He rang 
the bell, and when the clerk appeared said : 
