One morning when, in amazement that she was so late, they called her, they received no answer, neither could find her in or out of the house. She had applied to a friend in London, and following her advice, had taken the cheap train overnight, and gone to her. She met her, took her home, and helped her in seeking a situation. The result was that before many days were over, her appearance and manners being altogether in her favour, she obtained a place behind a counter in one of the largest shops. There she was kept hard at work, and the hours of business were long. But the labour was by no means too much for the fine health and spirits which now blossomed in her.

Her aunts raised an outcry of horror and dismay first, then of reprobation, accusing her of many things, and among the rest of those faults of which they were in reality themselves guilty toward her. For as to the gratitude and affection we are so ready to claim and so slow to pay, the debt was great on their part, and very small indeed on hers. They wrote to her guardians of course to acquaint them with the shocking fact of her flight, but dwelt far more upon the badness of her behaviour, the rapidity with which she had deteriorated, and their convictions as to the depth of the degradation she had preferred to the shelter of their—very moth-eaten—wings.

The younger of the two guardians was a man of business, and at once took proper measures to find her. It was not, however, before the lapse of several months that he succeeded. By that time her employers were so satisfied with her that, after an interview with them, followed by one with the girl herself, he was convinced that she was much better off where she was than with her aunts, whose dispositions were not unknown to him. So he left her in peace.

Knowing nothing of London and busy with her new way of life, Amy did not go at once to find Miss Raymount. She often recalled her kindness and always intended to seek her out as soon as she had the time. But the days and weeks wore away, and still she had not gone.

She continued a well-behaved girl, went regularly to church on Sundays, had many friends but few close ones, and lived with the girl who had been her friend before her mother’s death. Her new life was, no doubt, from its lack of ties to a home and the restraining influences of older people, dangerous—no kite can soar without the pull of the string. But danger leads less often to ruin than some people think. He who can walk without falling will learn to walk the better that his road is not always smooth.