The sun was streaming in at Helen's little window, when she opened her eyes at 7.45 the following morning. Jumping out of bed with a happy feeling about her Helen lifted the lower sash of her window and lent out as far as possible. The October morning air blew chill against her lightly clad figure but the sun was high in the Heavens and with a sigh of relief she closed her casement and began to get dressed.

"Let's see" she said opening her ward-robe and taking a view of the costumes therein "I'll put on my best dress if Marshland has mended the skirt" and so saying Helen shook out a pretty tweed dress trimmed with a deep pointed collar of scarlet velvit and cuffs to match and proceeded to button it on herself.

Here she was interupted by a loud knocking at the door and Alice thrust her head in saying "If you please miss, Mr. Sheene says he dont know what train you're a-going to Richmond by because its going on for 9 and the breakfast is almost cold."

"Oh dear" cried Helen hastily pinning on her hat, "I'll be down directly; what a time I've been dressing" she added. Seizing her gloves, umbrella, and little gold bracelet, she dashed downstairs and into the sitting room where a cold unpleasant breakfast greeted her, but Cyril was in a very good temper and that was just what was wanted, thought Helen as she gulped down her cold tea.

"Here" cried Cyril tossing her a sovereign on the table, "that's a little contribution towards your pleasure trip."

"Oh thanks Cyril" cried Helen joyfully "but do you mind dear if I dont go to the theatre; I have thought it over and I think I'll walk about the town, go to the terrace gardens, see the churches, and perhaps go on the river if it is fine, or if not go for a drive."

"Allright" replied Cyril carelessly "I think you're much wiser myself, I always thought it was silly to go to the theatre; if you go to the town for a day you naturally wish to see it thoroughly, as of course it is'nt a place you're ever likely to go to again.

"Exactly" replied Helen with a smile, "now Cyril I'm off; when do you start for Picadilly?"

"Not till 10.30" replied Cyril, "now hurry up or you'll be late; be back by eight wont you" and he strode to the front door with her, where a hansom stood waiting.

"Goodbye" cried Helen waving her hand to him: "Goodbye" replied Cyril "I'm so glad you're going to have a happy day" And as she drove off, Cyril thought what a bright pretty little blossom she looked with her bright eyes and rosy cheeks, compared to many of the ugly looking men who adorned the boxes of the London cabs.