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diff --git a/old/65871-0.txt b/old/65871-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9149185..0000000 --- a/old/65871-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5596 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore, by -Charlotte O'Conor Eccles - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore - A Farcical Novel - - -Author: Charlotte O'Conor Eccles - - - -Release Date: July 19, 2021 [eBook #65871] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REJUVENATION OF MISS -SEMAPHORE*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.96609 - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -THE REJUVENATION OF MISS SEMAPHORE - -A Farcical Novel - -by - -HAL GODFREY - -(C. O’Conor Eccles) - - -[Illustration: SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE - -L &. N 30TH THOUSAND] - - -London -Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C. -[All Rights Reserved] -1900 - - - * * * * * * - - _COOMBS’_ - - EUREKA SELF-RAISING - - _FLOUR_ - - Admitted Antidote - for Indigestion. - - 16 GOLD MEDALS - and Prix d’Honneur at - the Imperial - Institute, 1899. - - Is the Best and - ABSOLUTELY PURE. - Sold in 3d., 6d., 1/-, & - 2/6 Bags. - - * * * * * - - _COOMBS’_ - - _MALTED FOOD_ - - 3 GOLD MEDALS - and Prix d’Honneur at - the Imperial Institute, - 1899. - - FOR INFANTS AND - INVALIDS, - IS A PERFECT AND - INVALUABLE ARTICLE OF - DIET. - Sold in 6d., 1/-, 2/6 & - 5/- Tins. - ALSO - Custard, Blanc Mange, - Light Pastry, and Egg - Powders - - Sold in 1d., 2d., 3d., - 6d., and 1/- Boxes. - - TOTAL AWARDS 61 MEDALS. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - - Dr. MACKENZIE’S - - CATARRH CURE - - _Smelling Bottle_. - - Cures Cold in the Head, - cures Nervous Headache, - instantly relieves Hay - Fever and Neuralgia in - the Head, is the best - remedy for Faintness and - Dizziness. - - _Sold by all Chemists - and Stores._ - - PRICE ONE SHILLING. - - REFUSE WORTHLESS - IMITATIONS. - - Post Free, 15 Stamps, - from - MACKENZIE’S CURE DEPOT, - READING. - - * * * * * * - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. WHICH INTRODUCES MISS SEMAPHORE 7 - - II. A BOARDING-HOUSE EVENING 20 - - III. MISS SEMAPHORE RECEIVES AN ANSWER 35 - - IV. CASTLES IN THE AIR 45 - - V. THE WATER OF YOUTH 54 - - VI. AN ACCIDENT 61 - - VII. PRUDENCE RECEIVES A SHOCK 70 - - VIII. A CAREER OF DECEPTION 81 - - IX. A PROMISING ADVERTISEMENT 91 - - X. IN WHICH MISS PRUDENCE EXPLAINS MATTERS 100 - - XI. THE MEDICAL LADY INTERVENES 106 - - XII. “GOOD MRS. BROWN” 116 - - XIII. THE MEDICAL LADY BAFFLED 129 - - XIV. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 139 - - XV. PRUDENCE CALLS AT PLUMMER’S COTTAGES 150 - - XVI. MRS. DUMARESQ IN AN UNDIPLOMATIC CIRCLE 163 - - XVII. A SENSATION IN “THE STAR” 173 - - XVIII. A DETECTIVE ON THE TRACK 177 - - XIX. A COUNCIL OF WAR 190 - - XX. NOTICE TO QUIT 204 - - XXI. AT THE ARROW STREET POLICE COURT 213 - - XXII. A SCENE IN COURT 222 - - XXIII. CONCLUSION 236 - - - - - The Rejuvenation - - OF - - MISS SEMAPHORE. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - WHICH INTRODUCES MISS SEMAPHORE. - - -Seven o’clock had struck. - -The gong at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, South Kensington, thundered under -the vigorous strokes of the bow-legged German waiter. By one, by two, by -three, the boarders trooped down to dinner, the more sensitive to noise -stopping their ears as they descended. - -The very deafest could not ignore that gong. Müller always attacked it -suddenly, as if running amuck or possessed by a demon. It reverberated -far and near, and echoed faintly to Gloucester Road Station. Boarders, -arriving late, were seen to run when their ears caught the familiar -sound. - -At the head of the central table in the fine dining-room, its three -windows looking on the Gardens, sat the proprietress, Mrs. Wilcox. She -was a bright-eyed, stout, florid woman of forty-five, dressed in black -silk and a lace fichu secured by a cameo brooch. As she waited for her -guests, she meditatively sharpened a carving knife. - -By the sideboard stood her husband, Captain Wilcox, slender, dried-up, -younger than his wife, and dominated by her. Where they met, and why -they married, was a never-failing source of speculation in the house. It -was asserted that Miss Tompkins took him in payment of a debt. Be that -as it might, the mild, subdued little Captain was evidently a gentleman. -He had been in a Lancer regiment, got into difficulties, and now at -eight-and-thirty was a person of much less importance in his wife’s -boarding-house than her imposing cook. - -Though never supposed to act as master, the name and authority of -Captain Wilcox were frequently evoked by Mrs. Wilcox when any unpleasant -duty had to be done. He it was, for instance, who sternly insisted that -no credit should be given. He stood out for the weekly settlement of -accounts. He was responsible for certain persons receiving notice to -quit. He made the unpopular rule that the drawing-room lights should be -extinguished precisely at eleven. In a word, he was the Jorkins of the -firm. For the rest, he held some small post in the City secured for him -by his wife’s brother, helped daily with the carving, and paid for his -own keep. - -Besides the central table, there were round the room several smaller -ones, accommodating from four to eight persons. To one of these, some -men and women concerned in our story were making their way. First came -Miss Augusta Semaphore, a tall, thin, and rather acid-looking woman of -fifty-three. Close behind followed her sister, Miss Prudence, who was -ten years younger, and accustomed to be treated as a baby. Prudence wore -a fringe that hung over her eyes in separate snaky curls, and in damp -weather degenerated into wisps; she was plump and fair, had a somewhat -foolish smile, and, as befitted her part of giddy, little thing, any -number of coquettish airs and graces. - -Their neighbours were, a stately couple named Mr. and Mrs. Dumaresq, Mr. -Lorimer, a clownish youth, of good family and aggressive patriotism, -Major Jones, Mrs. Whitley, a small, mincing lady of recent and painful -refinement, and finally a large and commanding woman with a terrible -eye, who was vaguely believed to have taken out a medical degree. - -“For what we are about to receive,” said Mrs. Wilcox, “the Lord make us -truly thankful.” - -With a creak and a rustle, some five-and-thirty boarders drew in their -chairs. The covers were removed, and a ripple of prosy talk began. - -As usual, it started with polite enquiries as to each other’s health. In -boarding-houses it generally does. No one cares a button for you or your -ailments, but they ask after them all the same with exasperating -regularity and take no interest in the answer. - -“How is your cold, Major Jones?” - -“Better, thank you, Mrs. Dumaresq—and your neuralgia?” - -“Much worse; I never closed my eyes last night.” - -“But you are taking something for it?”—and so on, and so on, and so on. - -New comers at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, occasionally tried to be -conversational. For a time they were lively, animated, full of good -stories and repartee. People listened to them in silence, and generally -took offence. Conversation as a fine art was not encouraged. It was sad -to notice how in a week or a fortnight the talkers talked themselves -out, and subsided into the brief commonplaces of their neighbours. - -The boarders, all respectable people who read the _Daily Telegraph_ and -voted Tory when they had votes, shared the profound belief of the -middle-class Briton that silence shows solidity, sound judgment, and a -well-balanced mind. Profound and continued silence they considered an -attainment in itself. They scarcely realised, not being introspective, -that two-thirds of the people who don’t speak are silent from lack of -ideas. - -As a matter of fact, in such a _milieu_, subjects for conversation of -general interest were almost impossible to find. By tacit consent, -politics and religion were tabooed, since the discussion of either -invariably ended in a quarrel. Though the boarders read novels, they did -not talk about them, and they took no great interest in literature or -art. A man who was supposed to have written a book was rather -cold-shouldered, for the Englishman—and in this case, as the preacher -put it, man embraces woman—whatever his respect for literature in the -abstract, thinks but meanly of those who produce it, if they do not -happen to be celebrities. To be sure they are generally poor. - -“Vill you beef, muddon, schiken, or feal?” whispered Müller, making his -round when soup and fish had been removed. - -“Veal, please,” said Miss Semaphore. - -“Feal, blease,” said Müller under his breath, to impress the order on -his mind. - -“Vill you beef, muddon, schiken, or feal, Madame?” - -“A portion—a tiny portion of the—a—chest of the fowl,” said Mrs. -Whitley. - -“Roast beef,” growled Mr. Lorimer, and Müller echoed “beef,” adding -“blease” on his own account. - -“I saw you to-day, Major Jones, but you did not see me,” said the -younger Miss Semaphore archly, when the interest of choosing had -subsided. - -“You what?” asked Major Jones mildly. He was rather deaf. - -“I said that I saw you to-day—down in the City, you know. Fancy! I went -all that distance by myself in an omnibus! There is such a sweet shop -for bargains in St. Paul’s Churchyard, and you passed me just as I -turned in.” - -“You should not go into the City unescorted,” said Miss Augusta -Semaphore severely; “I have told you that over and over again, but you -are so heedless. It is not _comme il faut_.” - -“What do you think would happen to her?” asked Mr. Lorimer gruffly. He -was a young man of combative instincts and no manners, with whom Miss -Semaphore waged a deadly but, on her side, perfectly civil warfare. - -“My dear father,” went on Miss Semaphore, without taking any notice, -“who was a distinguished military officer, strongly objected to girls -going about alone.” - -“That was all very well thirty years ago,” objected Mr. Lorimer, “but -nowadays, if people conduct themselves properly, there is no earthly -reason why they should not go about alone at fit and proper hours, once -they have come to years of discretion.” - -“I can assure you,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, assuming a grand air, and -slightly raising her voice, as she always did when she meant to impress -her hearers, “I can assure you that in diplomatic circles, a lady -shopping without an escort, or at any rate without a maid, is unheard -of.” - -In every boarding-house throughout the British Islands there is to be -found a person who is the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales. At 37, -Beaconsfield Gardens, Mrs. Dumaresq was that person. - -“Yes, all very well amongst a lot of horrid foreigners,” said Mr. -Lorimer obstinately; “no wonder ladies are afraid to go about alone -where there’s a set of ugly, unwashed rascals that would run a dagger -into them as soon as look at them, but grown-up Englishwomen in their -own country may do what they please.” - -“I do not approve of ladies going anywhere alone. It may do for -middle-class persons,” said Mrs. Dumaresq haughtily, “but I can assure -you, from personal knowledge, that it is not done in diplomatic circles. -When we lived at Belgrade, there was a Mrs. Twickenham who used to act -in the most unconventional way, and one day the Princess—a dear old -friend of ours—the Princess Hatzoff—you must have heard of her, first -cousin to the Czar, a delightful woman and so attached to me—said, -‘Dearest Mimi’—she always called me Mimi—‘are English ladies in their -own country, ladies of position such as you and I, allowed this liberty, -not to say license, of action?’ and I replied, ‘No, Helène, certainly -not.’” - -The Misses Semaphore, Mrs. Whitley, and the lady doctor listened -attentively to these reminiscences, but Mr. Lorimer was not impressed. - -“I maintain,” he said, “that this is a free country, and that those -ideas are old-fashioned.” - -“I assure you that is not the opinion of the Princess Hatzoff, a woman -who mixed in the very best society; nor was it the opinion of my dear -friend, the ex-Empress of the French, Mr. Lorimer,” replied Mrs. -Dumaresq with a lofty air. “However, we will discuss the matter no -further. In diplomacy one learns to avoid subjects on which one’s -experiences are different from those of other people, and so not likely -to agree.” - -There was a subdued acidity in Mrs. Dumaresq’s tone, there was a -battle-breathing obstinacy in Mr. Lorimer’s accent that led peaceful -Miss Prudence to change the conversation. - -“The poor dear Empress,” she said, “how I pity her!” - -“Ah, you should have seen her in her splendour. Were you in Paris before -the war?” - -“You can scarcely expect my sister to remember Paris before the war, my -dear Mrs. Dumaresq,” interposed Miss Semaphore frigidly. “It is years -ago. Prudence was a mere child.” - -Mrs. Dumaresq smiled slightly, and said, “Ah!” In diplomatic circles no -one openly expresses disbelief in a statement. - -“The dear Empress was such a friend of mine in the old days when we -lived there. One day, I remember so well, we had been away for nearly a -year. The Empress was standing at a window of the Palace with an -_aide-de-camp_ beside her, Comte de la Tour—you remember Comte de la -Tour, Angelo?” This to her silent husband, who nodded assent. “The -Empress suddenly said to the Comte, ‘_Mon cher_, who is that -charmingly-dressed lady who has just driven past?’ The Comte, dear man, -answered, ‘Oh, your Majesty, do you not know? that is Madame Dumaresq!’ -The same evening we met at a ball at the Spanish Ambassador’s, and the -Empress graciously came up to me. ‘Fancy,’ said she; ‘fancy, my dear -Madame Dumaresq, I did not recognise you this morning. It is such an age -since you were here; and oh! do permit me to congratulate you on the -exquisite costume you wore.’” - -The story made a distinct impression. The medical woman at the end of -the table, who had an American’s interest in high life, stopped short in -a thrilling narrative of an amputation, and listened with all her ears. - -“The Empress was a very lovely woman, but I believe she was not very -young when she married,” said the elder Miss Semaphore reflectively. - -“Oh, dear no! Eight or nine-and-twenty at least. Some people said -two-and-thirty.” - -“What matter does that make?” interposed the polite Mr. Dumaresq. “A -handsome woman is only the age she looks.” - -Miss Semaphore sighed. She had carefully examined her face before dinner -and discovered a new wrinkle. It was borne in on her that she scarcely -looked as young as she felt, but she made an effort to seem as if -eight-and-twenty, or, at most, two-and-thirty, was still before her. - -“It must be dreadful to grow old,” said Mrs. Whitley affectedly. - -“There are so many aids to beauty nowadays,” said Mr. Dumaresq, “that no -lady need look a day older than she likes.” - -“But the use of cosmetics is odious,” cried Miss Semaphore. “For my part -I never could understand how any one could use paints and powders.” - -Good breeding was not Mr. Lorimer’s strong point, and, in -boarding-houses, people say things to each other that elsewhere are the -privilege of relatives. - -“Dyes,” he said, looking fixedly at Miss Semaphore’s hair, “dyes are -most injurious—worst of all, in fact. Horrible case in the paper the -other day. A woman dyed her hair black one morning, died herself next! -Instantaneous softening of the brain, they said. The stuff soaked in.” - -The obvious application lent point to the sally. The medical lady, who -prided herself on being a fine woman, needing no aid from art, smiled -broadly. She could not, however, resist saying there was no such disease -as instantaneous softening of the brain. - -Mrs. Dumaresq, mindful of her diplomatic training, looked so grave that -a child would have suspected something wrong. Miss Semaphore murmured -“How dreadful!” She alone saw no personal allusion, for it never struck -her that anyone could think she tinted her tresses. Miss Prudence looked -as angrily at the speaker as her kind face permitted. Major Jones had -just said, “Eh! what’s that?” when Mrs. Wilcox rose, and at her signal -the ladies swept upstairs, leaving the men to cigars and scandal. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - A BOARDING-HOUSE EVENING, AND AN IMPORTANT LETTER. - - -Boarding-houses all the world over have certain features in common. -These are the result of haphazard association between people without -common interests. - -No. 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, South Kensington, was no exception to the -rule. Its inmates were chiefly women, the widows and daughters of -professional men. A few childless married couples lived there, and a -sprinkling of unmarried men who were either old or extremely young. Some -of the people were well-connected, others well-off, all were dull, a few -pious. Several secretly considered themselves superior to the others. -They focussed the attributes of the British Philistine, and were an -object-lesson as to the low intellectual level of average respectable -humanity. - -Lacking occupation and mutual outside interests, the boarders were led -to discuss each other freely. The men mostly herded together in the -smoking-room. The ladies gathered in the drawing-room. A sort of armed -neutrality was maintained between the sexes. He or she who ventured to -invade the headquarters of the other was looked on as daring or brazen -as the case might be. At meals alone did some thirty-five people -assemble. Even then, they were not expected to change their place at -table, so had to trust to chance for agreeable neighbours. - -The few girls who lived in the house had not a gay time. Poor things! -They had no lovers, no interests, no society, no prospects, and incomes -that required management. Once they ceased to be new arrivals, the men, -all of whom were ineligible, took no notice of them. They were treated -with a nonchalance more galling than unkindness, and were subtly given -to understand that they could not expect the same consideration as young -women outside who lived in their own homes and had parents who -entertained. The elderly people, and especially Miss Semaphore, looked -rigidly after the proprieties. - -Occasionally a dashing widow or an attractive and forward damsel -temporarily upset the dulness. Dances were organised, round games -started, heads turned. These brilliant meteors never lingered long on -the horizon. Their stay usually terminated in some episode that led to a -notice to quit. The succeeding flatness was the more marked. - -There is no dulness in the quietest home like the dulness that falls at -intervals on a boarding-house. It may be that at home one does not -expect much, while living with a number of strangers one feels restless, -as if something really ought to happen. - -There are blanks and periods of depression, extending sometimes to -months at a time, when life seems a waste. During these, efforts to get -up any amusement are useless. No one will help, and so much cold water -is thrown on every suggestion, that in despair the promoter abandons the -project. - -Such an interval was now being put through at No. 37. Conversation, as -we have indicated, languished, being replaced by an occasional -interchange of platitudes, failing any private or public sensation. An -audacious flirtation on the part of one of the younger women, or a -thrilling murder trial, would have interested everybody, especially the -flirtation, on the progress of which the boarders would have taken turns -to watch and comment on. - -Relieved of all household duties, the “ladies,” as Mrs. Wilcox never -failed to call them, passed the monotonous days in shopping, -novel-reading, and repose. They made up temporary friendships between -themselves and fell out with regularity. As usual, they were split into -two factions, those who abused the proprietress and those who did not. - -The drawing-room in which they nightly assembled was a spacious -apartment. A Brussels carpet of pronounced pattern, red Utrecht velvet -chairs—solid, as befitted furniture destined to much wear and tear—and -gilt-framed mirrors, gave the apartment an early Victorian aspect. The -light and airy found no place in this salon, for in boarding-houses -everything breakable is broken, and nobody owns to the mischief. - -Workbaskets, newspapers, and novels were brought out this evening as -usual, and nearly all the party became absorbed in one or other of these -excitements. They had exhausted each other, though one or two kept up a -dribble of civil enquiries for the sake of saying something. - -“What pretty work. How do you do it?” - -“Oh! it is a new stitch I have just learned.” - -“Were you out this afternoon?” - -“No; I lay down and took a nap. Were you?” - -“Yes, I went down to High Street for some wool.” - -The evening to which we refer, though as dull, was not destined to be as -peaceful as its fellows. The cause of the disturbance was Miss -Semaphore’s dog. Miss Semaphore’s dog was a mongrel, a snappish little -brute called Toutou. Its brown hair was flecked with grey, for it was -old, fat, and scant of breath. Toutou had been the cause of more -unpleasantness at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, than any other inmate. If, -in the quarrels of men, _cherchez la femme_ holds good, in the quarrels -of idle women who live in boarding-houses one may not unfrequently look -for the dog. To-night, unfortunately for herself, Miss Belcher, one of -the younger women, trod on its tail. Frankly, it was difficult to avoid -treading on Toutou’s tail, for he had a trick of getting into the way -that was simply exasperating. Miss Belcher, a nice, harmless girl, -jumped as if she had been shot. - -“Oh, I am so sorry!” she cried; “doggie, poor doggie, are you hurt?” and -kneeling down, she tried tenderly to soothe him. Toutou was not hurt, -but he howled desperately. Judging by his actions he rather enjoyed -getting people into trouble. In an instant Miss Semaphore swooped down, -red and angry, seized her favourite, and casting a withering glance at -the crestfallen Miss Belcher, carried him off to her own particular -corner. - -Everyone at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, had a special chair or a favourite -corner, and great was the indignation if anyone else took it. - -“It was quite an accident,” stammered Miss Belcher. “I never saw -Toutou.” - -“Some people,” replied Miss Semaphore, “have no eyes. They think it -rather amusing to torture dumb animals, don’t they, my precious?” As she -spoke, she bestowed a kiss like a peck on the top of Toutou’s ugly nose. -The boarders all ceased work and listened attentively. - -“But indeed, Miss Semaphore,” cried poor Miss Belcher, almost crying, -“it was not my fault.” - -“I suppose, of course, it was Toutou’s,” said Miss Semaphore with -sarcasm. - -Miss Belcher was getting the worst of it, when her mother, a large, deaf -woman of majestic presence, interposed. She domineered over her daughter -and everyone else, and had been silent so far because she had been -having the state of the case explained in her ear by Mrs. Whitley. - -“Don’t mind, Emma,” she said suddenly, “That ridiculous dog is in -everyone’s way, It should be got rid of.” Turning to the embarrassed -Mrs. Whitley, she made what appeared to be indignant comments on Miss -Semaphore, the obnoxious word “old maid” being distinctly audible. - -At this awful crisis the boarders stared panic-stricken at Miss -Semaphore. - -Miss Semaphore, under other circumstances, would have justified their -apprehensions. Even she, however, saw it was no use quarrelling with a -deaf woman endowed with a terrible tongue. Accordingly, she simply -muttered, “Disgraceful!—ill-bred!” and something about “the result of -association with such persons,” and relapsed into an oppressive silence. - -The innocent little dribble of talk dried up before the sirocco of her -suppressed wrath. A silence that might be felt reigned in the -drawing-room. Though glances were interchanged, no one ventured to speak -except Mrs. Belcher. She, greatly daring, and with the evident intention -of flouting both Miss Semaphore and Toutou, addressed her daughter on -all manner of subjects, compelling that unhappy young person to reply at -the top of her voice. Miss Prudence, who always shrank from her sister’s -outbursts, buried herself timidly in the pages of the _Lady’s Pictorial_ -and tried to look as if she had heard nothing. - -When this painful state of things had lasted for some time, Mrs. -Dumaresq, by way of creating a diversion, said in her most fascinating -manner, - -“That dreadful Mr. Morley has been making another speech. I’m sure it is -a wonder how anyone can be found to listen to him. Radicals and -Socialists and those sort of people really ought to be locked up.” - -“Perhaps, on their side, they think Tories should be locked up,” said -Miss Stott, a thick-set young person with views. - -“No doubt they do,” answered Mrs. Dumaresq with energy. “No doubt, if -they could, they would have all the aristocracy beheaded. As my dear -friend, the Baroness de la Veille Roche, once said to me, ‘My darling -Mimi, the _canaille_ would wade in our blood if they dared.’” - -“I doubt it,” said Miss Stott stolidly; “people are not as bloodthirsty -as that, even if they are Radicals or Socialists. After all, human -beings are very much alike in the grain whatever their rank, and none of -us would care particularly to wade in blood.” - -“Alike!” echoed Mrs. Dumaresq. “My dear Miss Stott, you are mistaken. -Between the upper and the lower classes there is the greatest possible -difference. They have not our sensitiveness, our refinement, our -delicacy.” Mrs. Dumaresq said “our” to show she knew her manners, and to -accentuate her diplomatic training. - -“Do you think not?” queried Miss Stott. “Of course they have not -external refinement, nor the advantages of education. But do you really -think they are less sensitive, less delicate in their own way? Why, -every day there are cases in the paper that seem to show Belgravia and -Whitechapel are very much alike when their blood is up. The chief -difference to me appears to be that the one does things and does not -talk of them, while the other talks of them but does not do them.” - -“My dear Miss Stott!” remonstrated Mrs. Dumaresq. - -“Yes,” said Miss Stott, “why only to-day I read the account of an action -taken by a servant against her mistress, a wealthy woman, who broke her -fan on her maid’s shoulder.” - -“How shocking!” said Mrs. Dumaresq. “But you must not judge the -aristocracy by such persons. The woman, though she may have been rich, -could not possibly have been a lady.” - -“So I think,” replied Miss Stott; “no doubt, however, she considered -herself one, for she was an Earl’s daughter.” - -“Oh—h!” said Mrs. Dumaresq, with great surprise. “Then the maid must -have been very provoking.” - -A rattle of teacups announced the arrival of coffee. - -Miss Prudence Semaphore, who was seated in the centre of the room near -the lamp, looked round to see if any of the men had come up, and dropped -her _Pictorial_. As she recovered it, an advertisement caught her eye. - - “TO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF MEANS. - - “The widow of an eminent explorer, being in straitened circumstances, - is compelled to offer for sale a single bottle of water from the - Fountain of Youth, vainly sought in Florida by Ponce de Leon. Its - marvellous rejuvenating properties cannot be exaggerated. By its means - a person of seventy may regain, after six small doses, the age of - eighteen. This is genuine. No cosmetic. No imposture. No connection - with any preparation making similar claims. The greatest marvel of - this or any other century. Money willingly returned if above statement - is proved untrue. Please address offers, which must be liberal, as - this opportunity is unique, to X. Y. Z., Office of this Paper.” - -Greatly struck by the announcement, which she read twice, Miss Prudence -passed the paper to her sister, saying, “Look at that!” She then pulled -out some knitting, and became absorbed in the mysteries of “slip one, -knit one, bring the thread forward, knit two together.” - -Miss Semaphore adjusted her long-handled eye-glasses, sole concession to -failing sight. Spectacles were abhorrent to her, and even a _pince nez_ -she considered too plain an acknowledgment of weakness. She was even -more impressed by the advertisement than Miss Prudence had been, and -considered it at intervals throughout the evening. - -Coffee had been handed round. The men who sauntered upstairs for a cup -massed themselves together for company at one end of the room. If -separate from their kind, they seemed forlorn and uneasy, and watched an -opportunity to escape. One or two of the oldest, including Major Jones, -and a Mr. Batley, who was young, but a new-comer and unacquainted with -the ways of the house, advanced into what seemed to be looked on as the -women’s end. - -Miss Prudence Semaphore moved her skirts slightly, so as to give a -chance to anyone wishing to sit beside her. No one came. Pretty Miss -Fastleigh and her sister, with an unconsciousness born of experience, -had thoughtfully taken places as near the men as possible. Soon they -were deep in conversation with the more courageous of the advanced -guard. - -Coffee over, the greater number of the men made a stampede. Some were -studying for examinations and could not spare time. More sat in each -other’s rooms drinking whisky and soda, others again turned out for a -game of billiards. - -A whist party was formed by Miss Semaphore, her sister, Major Jones and -Mr. Dumaresq. Mrs. Whitley, Mrs. Dumaresq, the medical woman, Miss -Belcher, Miss Fastleigh, Mr. Batley, and his sister, took part in a -round game. Miss Primsby, a timid girl, very proper, and easily shocked, -whose formidable mother went to bed early, after a time slipped gently -downstairs to the smoking-room. There she taught chess to Monsieur -Lemprière, a young Frenchman who had come over to learn the language. -The better to explain the moves, she held his hand in hers. - - “In England the Garden of Beauty is kept - By a dragon of prudery placed within call, - But so oft this unamiable dragon hath slept, - That the garden’s but carelessly watched after all.” - -The second Miss Fastleigh, who had a good voice, went to the piano -unasked and sang one or two songs. Finding no one took any particular -notice, she amused herself by running up the scale and sustaining the -high A, much to the exasperation of her hearers. The only woman who can -endure scales is the woman who is singing them. Mrs. Belcher perused the -paper. She did not take it herself, but borrowed it from Major Jones in -the evenings. From time to time she gave scraps of news to Mrs. Wilcox, -who had read it all before breakfast. Captain Wilcox sat downstairs in -his wife’s office, balancing the books. - -About half-past ten Miss Semaphore rose. Having carried all before her -at the whist table, she was in high spirits, and bade good-night with -much affability to everyone except the Belchers. She carried with her -the copy of the _Lady’s Pictorial_. When her sister, having as usual sat -with her for twenty minutes, discussing the events of the day, had -retired to her own room, which adjoined, she sat down and wrote the -following letter: - - “37, Beaconsfield Gardens, - “South Kensington. - “June —th, 189–. - - “Madam, - - “Having seen your advertisement in the current issue of the _Lady’s - Pictorial_, I am induced to reply I should like to become the - possessor of the ‘Water’ you offer for sale. While willing to offer - liberal terms, I do not of course know what you would consider such. I - should be glad, therefore, if you could arrange for an interview, when - we might discuss the matter. I take it for granted that the water is - as efficacious as you represent it to be, and shall expect proof - before purchase. - - “I am, Madam, - “Yours faithfully, - “A. J. SEMAPHORE.” - -This was enclosed in an envelope addressed to “X. Y. Z., Office of the -_Lady’s Pictorial_.” Next morning Miss Semaphore carried it herself to -the post. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - MISS SEMAPHORE RECEIVES AN ANSWER. - - -“I am perfectly proportioned,” said the medical lady confidentially to -Mrs. Whitley. - -Mrs. Whitley would not have thought so herself, but she made an -assenting murmur, out of politeness. - -They were seated at breakfast two or three mornings later, and the -medical lady’s statement was interrupted by the entrance of Miss -Semaphore, who glided quietly to her place, and took up her -correspondence with some appearance of anxiety. - -“Perfectly proportioned,” went on the medical lady in a lower key; “my -dressmaker says she has no difficulty therefore in fitting me, and my -gowns always sit well. I don’t say this out of vanity. It is a fact. I -fear, however, it would be no use giving her address to other people, -for the result might not be as satisfactory.” - -Mrs. Whitley looked insulted, but she was a timid woman, and not ready -of speech. She thought the medical lady’s dress clumsy, and her figure -shapeless, but had indiscreetly asked who made it—the dress, not the -figure—with a view to employing the woman on some plain sewing. The -medical lady’s answer to her question had offended her very much, but -she could not think of anything cutting to say in reply. - -Without noticing her expression, or feeling any awkwardness, the medical -lady continued, - -“You know my velvet mantle? I have been told Miss Fastleigh says she -does not like it. Now that is pure jealousy. It is an extremely handsome -mantle, far handsomer than anything she could afford. But of course it -could only be worn by a fine, tall woman. It is astonishing that so many -people are jealous of me.” - -Mrs. Whitley wondered vaguely what grounds for jealousy the medical lady -gave. She certainly was not popular in the house, but that was scarcely -because anyone was jealous of her. Belief in her own beauty, however, -and in the envy she imagined it excited, kept her happy; so sharp -speeches or covert hints alike failed to alter her. Mrs. Whitley she had -chosen as a confidante, under the belief that she was a quiet little -person who admired her. She would have been very much astonished to hear -Mrs. Whitley’s candid opinion. - -“And how are you this morning, Mrs. Whitley?” asked Mrs. Dumaresq -blandly. She was the next arrival. - -“My cold is still bad, thank you,” said Mrs. Whitley. - -“Oh, indeed! No doubt the draught in your room increased it. All the -small rooms here are draughty, as the doors and windows are opposite -each other. Of course, as I have told you, when we came here we meant to -stop but a very short time. I can assure you, my dear Mrs. Whitley, that -to anyone who has moved in diplomatic circles, and been honoured by the -gracious hospitality of royalty, a boarding-house, however well kept—and -this is not without its good points—cannot fail to be objectionable. -Though we meant, as I have said, to stay but a short time, I was most -particular about having a good room. ‘Angelo,’ said I, ‘let us take the -best apartments in the house,’ and so we did. I made a point of it. It -is a great pity that you do not move into a larger room. Not that it -makes any difference to me. I am quite above such petty matters. I never -was influenced by any worldly consideration in my choice of -acquaintances; far from it. If I like people, my dear Mrs. Whitley, I -like them whether they have a small room or not. I do assure you they -may be stowed away at the very top of the house for all I care.” - -“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” murmured Mrs. Whitley. The blaze of -grandeur surrounding Mr. and Mrs. Dumaresq, caused her to take all that -they said in good part. They had a certain suavity, an easy way of -saying unpleasant things, that the medical lady lacked. Besides, Mrs. -Whitley’s one ambition was to get into Society, and she secretly hoped -that if she was very civil to Mrs. Dumaresq, she might possibly be one -day introduced to some of the distinguished personages whose names were -so frequently introduced into her conversation. - -“Yes,” went on the lady in a glow of generous feeling and a somewhat -heightened voice, “rank, and wealth, and position have never had any -charm for me. As my dear friend, the Marchese Polichinello, a charming -woman, a reigning beauty at the Italian Court—You remember the Marchese, -Angelo?—often said to me, ‘_Bellisima mia_’—she always addressed me as -‘_bellisima mia_’—‘you are led too much by your heart.’” - -“I suppose you are going to the Queen’s Garden Party, Mrs. Dumaresq,” -said the medical lady, who had been reading the _Court Circular_. - -“Oh, ah, yes,” replied Mrs. Dumaresq, “I expect I shall. It is easy for -me to go at any time.” - -“But guests must have attended a Drawing-room within the last two years -to be eligible for invitations,” said Mr. Lorimer gruffly, “and I -thought you said you were out of England.” - -“Certainly, certainly,” answered Mrs. Dumaresq, “we have of course been -away, but the dear Prince will arrange all that; and then, practically -speaking, I have attended a Drawing-room within the last two years.” - -No one asked what she meant. - -Meantime Miss Semaphore was reading the following letter:— - - “194, Handel Street, W.C. - “—th June, 189–. - - “Madam, - - “In reply to your communication, I beg to say that I shall be pleased - to dispose of the Water referred to in my advertisement for the sum of - £1000. This minimum price is absolutely fixed, and I cannot take less. - Considering that the effect is guaranteed, and that I am the only - person in the world who has this marvellous water to sell, I am sure - you will admit the price is low. Were it not that I am in pressing and - immediate need of money, I could easily get much more. If you are - inclined to conclude the business at once, I shall be happy to see you - here to-morrow at 4.30 p.m., and give you a proof before purchase. My - bankers, Coutts & Co.; my solicitors, Lewis & Lewis, Dr. Llewellyn - Smith, of 604, Harley Street; and His Grace the Duke of Fordham have - kindly permitted me to name them as references, should you care to - make enquiries about me. - - “I am, Madam, - “Yours faithfully, - “SOPHIA GELDHERAUS.” - -Miss Semaphore ate her breakfast pensively and in silence, then made her -way to her room. A thousand pounds! It was a large sum of money, a very -large sum. The sisters were fairly well off, still that was a great deal -to give out of their capital. But if this Mrs. Geldheraus—Miss Semaphore -knew the name as that of a famous African traveller of German birth—if -Mrs. Geldheraus spoke the truth, the water was well worth it. - -Miss Semaphore scarcely allowed her mind to dwell on the ecstatic -delight of being once more nineteen—intelligent nineteen this time, -nineteen conscious of its powers, knowing the value of youth, enjoying -the mere being young as no one could who had not been old. Had she dwelt -on it, she would have felt prepared for this one good to give not only -one thousand pounds, but her entire fortune and count it well spent. -Still, common sense told her a thousand pounds was no trifle for a woman -of her means. She could not raise it herself all at once. - -On consideration, she decided to tell her sister, to share the bottle -with her, and halve the expense. Prudence being younger, would naturally -require less of the water. There was no need, however, to allude to that -beforehand, else she might feel inclined to pay only in proportion. - -The Misses Semaphore had had a life similar to that of many single -women—a grey, colourless life, full of petty cares and petty interests. -Born in a country town, where their parents were the magnates of a dull -and highly-respectable circle, they had had a martinet father and an -invalid mother. Church work occupied the days of their youth. Few -visitors called on them except elderly married people that they had -known all their lives. The very curates in Pillsborough were married. - -Colonel Semaphore, like many retired military men, had had strict -principles, and had taught his daughters to be suspicious of everything -that looked pleasant. Reading, except of devotional works, had not been -encouraged in their home. Neither of the girls had been rebellious or -particularly bright. They had tried to do their duty, and had found it -monotonous. Seeing little of the world, and having no youthful society, -they had grown elderly, prim, and formal without knowing it. Dreaming -that their lives were all before them, they had waked up suddenly to -find that life is youth, and that youth was over. - -When their father had died at an advanced age, they had moved to London, -feeling themselves most adventurous in making such a change. Years had -hardened Miss Augusta and softened Miss Prudence. The former was the -terror of the giddy at Beaconsfield Gardens. Behind her back they made -fun of her, and imitated her precise manner, but no one liked to come in -collision with her. Miss Prudence, soft-hearted, soft-headed, and a -little romantic, was the favourite. She was always ready to fall in -love, but lacked opportunity. Her little airs, graces, and stratagems -were as transparent as the day. She had difficulty in realising that she -was grown-up, and would have called anyone who forced the truth on her -“a horrid thing.” Her strong-minded sister’s dominion over her and her -affairs tended to strengthen the delusion. Miss Semaphore managed the -property and investments from which their income was derived, and seldom -referred to Prudence in such matters, save when her signature was -required. - -Under all her severity, however, Miss Semaphore was by no means as rigid -as she looked. Since coming to London, she had begun half-unconsciously -to contrast the life she had led with the lives that young women about -her led. Something stirred vaguely in her. She felt she had been -defrauded of many things that were bright and pleasant and harmless in -themselves. How matters in the past could have been different she did -not quite know, but she wished they had been different. All this was -food to her desire to be young, to have her time over again, to enjoy -herself just a little; and many of her disagreeable speeches might have -been traced, by a student of human nature, to the bitterness towards -others that sometimes wells in the heart of a lonely woman, making her -feel, “I have had a bad time, why should not they?” - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - CASTLES IN THE AIR. - - -That evening, a little shamefacedly, Miss Semaphore told Prudence how -she had answered the advertisement in _The Pictorial_, and received a -reply from Mrs. Geldheraus. - -Prudence was very much surprised and delighted, being in one of her rare -spasms of remembrance that she no longer was a girl. She expressed -herself as not only willing but ready and anxious to help in raising -half of the money required, if the explorer’s widow persisted in -demanding a thousand pounds. - -The sisters resolved, however, that Miss Augusta should endeavour to -persuade her to accept £600, advancing to £800, and only paying the full -sum if she remained obdurate. They decided, too, that despite her -excellent references, it would be only judicious to postdate the cheque -offered her, that they might have an opportunity of personally testing -the efficacy of the water before the draft was presented. - -“She is very emphatic as to its genuineness,” said Miss Semaphore; “but -of course we do not know her, and she may not speak the truth. If she is -an honest person—and certainly her references are all that can be -desired—she will be quite willing to give us a chance of first finding -out whether the water is really any good. A thousand pounds is a great -deal of money, and we ought to run no risks.” - -“She says she is willing to give you a proof before purchase.” - -“I wonder what sort of proof?” - -“Perhaps take some herself.” - -“I shouldn’t like that. It would be a pity to waste any of it.” - -“I tell you what,” said Miss Semaphore, after consideration, “I’ll take -Toutou and make her give him a little, just for an experiment. You see -he would require much less than a human being, unless we had quite a -young girl at hand, and on her it might not show. The poor darling is -nearly fifteen. A mere sip should suffice for him.” - -“Perhaps it does not act on animals,” suggested Miss Prudence. - -“Why should it not? I once read something about the Water of Youth -before in a book, and my belief is that they said it acted not only on -people, but on insects, and on flowers; then why not on a dog?” - -“Augusta dear! what will you do when you are young again?” asked -Prudence softly. - -“Oh, lots of things,” said Miss Semaphore. “She did not like to own, -even to her sister, the golden dreams that floated before her, and that -she felt would be slightly ridiculous for a mature woman to confess. - -“How old will you be?” - -“Well, if the thing can be regulated, I should like to be about -eight-and-twenty. You see that is considered young, but not too young. -At eight-and-twenty a woman has sense, if ever she is going to have it, -and is old enough then to know her own mind. Eight-and-twenty, and stay -at it, is my idea.” - -“I should like to be eighteen,” said Prudence. - -“Too young. At eighteen one is generally either a fool or a pert Miss, -and therefore unattractive to the best sort of men. However, I should -not mind standing at twenty if that is more convenient; but I must first -find out how the water works.” - -“Just fancy you twenty and me eighteen! What young creatures we shall -be! Oh, Augusta dear, do you know I feel quite frightened. What shall we -do alone in London with no one to look after us?” - -“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Miss Semaphore crossly. “We have only to -consider our appearance. We shan’t really be so ridiculously young, you -know. I have no doubt we shall retain our present minds and experience, -and be perfectly well able to manage for ourselves. Of course I shall -make all enquiries to-morrow as to the effects and act accordingly. And -for goodness sake, Prudie, if it is successful, don’t keep remembering -and talking about things that you could not possibly have seen or known -if you were really only eighteen. That is just the sort of stupid thing -you are likely to do. We must carefully look out the proper date and -avoid remembering anything before that.” - -“Don’t you think, dear,” said Miss Prudence after a pause, “it will be -well to go away from here before trying the experiment, away to some -place where we are not known? It will be so awkward else.” - -“Yes,” said Miss Semaphore reflectively, “I suppose it would be better; -but we can consider that to-morrow, and now I am quite tired. It is time -for us both to go to bed.” - -The sisters duly undressed and sought repose, but for a long time none -came. The future was too full of bewildering possibilities. Each felt -that she ought not to let her mind dwell on what might never come to -pass. Mrs. Geldheraus might be an imposter, the Water of Youth a fraud. -Still, supposing—there was no harm in supposing—supposing both were -genuine, what a delightful prospect. To be at once young and -experienced; could anything surpass it? Pitfalls might be avoided, -amusement sought, courses of conduct followed after a fashion impossible -to anyone who was eighteen or twenty for the first and only time in -life. To get all one’s chances over again, and to be assured of missing -none of them, what luck! what unexampled good fortune! - -Rosy visions of what they would do intruded on both of them, but we -grieve to state that the wildest and flightiest of these visions were -those of the elder Miss Semaphore. Were her eyes or those of her sister -ever to light on these lines, were there a chance that her acquaintances -might see this veracious history, we should hesitate to set her fancies -down, and this for two reasons. First, because Miss Semaphore herself -would be confused and confounded to a painful degree, and this, as she -is an excellent if somewhat hard woman, we have no wish to bring about. -Second, because her sister and friends would write lengthy and indignant -letters denying our statements, and citing her reputation for propriety, -not to say rigidity, of conduct, and her severely religious tone, her -want of sympathy with flightiness of any kind, as proof positive that -she never could, would, or should have thought what we assert was in her -mind. - -Fortunately we need not fear either danger, and so in all truthfulness -may state exactly what Miss Semaphore hoped to do with her renewed -youth. - -In her secret soul she had come to think that it was rather a pity she -had not had a past to reflect upon. She had gathered no roses while she -might. She had been only too well brought up, and she was determined, -_en tout bien et en tout honneur_ be it understood, to change all that. -Someone has said, _il n’y a aucune austerité supérieure qui ne laisse -pas quelques régrets_. She would try the delights of an impeccable but -more frivolous existence. She would be fascinating, coquettish, would -avoid the misplaced gravity of her inexperienced youth, that had been -not only afraid to enjoy itself, but had not known how to set about it, -and had never got the chance. - -As a preliminary to a dazzling career of conquest she decided that as -soon as she was twenty she would take lessons in stage dancing and have -her voice trained. Her father, or any of the worthy inhabitants of -Pillsborough known to her, would have fainted at mention of the stage. -Indeed, when young, Miss Semaphore shared their views; but she had been -gradually coming round since she moved to London and found that even -amongst the Philistines “the profession” was not in such bad odour as in -the country. She felt it to be wicked but fascinating, believed she had -genuine, if uncultivated, dramatic talent, and actually regretted that -circumstances had kept her from cultivating it. - -Now, she thought, she would not be stopped. This goes to prove that the -most proper and severe persons often think a course of action suitable -for themselves which they would reprehend in others. - -She argued, and with truth, that dangerous though the stage might be, -she would have the experience of over fifty years to guide her, and -would therefore be in a different position from other girls of twenty. -In a lurid but delightful vision she saw herself gay, beautiful, famous, -the delight of the stalls, the admiration of the gallery, the recipient -of bouquets and _billets-doux_, her photograph in every shop window, -offers of marriage coming by every post. At last she fell asleep, a -beatific smile on her face. - -She had quite forgotten how two or three years before she had brought -pressure to bear on Mrs. Wilcox to give notice to a girl who had gone on -the stage. Englishwomen are often shocked at others doing what they -would do themselves, if they had the chance or the aptitude. - -Miss Prudence meanwhile, in her little white room adjoining, thought -kindly of Major Jones and yearningly of the Rev. Harry Lyndon, Curate of -St. Botolph’s, a consumptive young man of twenty-eight. She had always -admired the Reverend Harry, though reluctantly admitting in her heart of -hearts that he was somewhat too young for her. But now what would there -be to prevent their union? She fell into a train of reverie as to how -the matter should be managed. Would she let him think she had always -been no more than eighteen, or would she tell him of the wonderful -water? Sleep came to her while deliberating. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - THE WATER OF YOUTH. - - -Usually the fond imaginations of the night wear a different aspect in -the dawn; but the visions of the Misses Semaphore had lost none of their -attractiveness by morning. Though, as before said, they tried now and -then to check their super-abounding joy by the cold reflection that -perhaps the explorer’s widow was a humbug, and the Water of Youth liquid -drawn from the nearest well, they had much ado to keep their excitement -within bounds. Indeed their manner, despite all efforts, betrayed such -suppressed exultation that Mr. Lorimer twice enquired of Major Jones if -he thought “the old girls” were daft. - -In the afternoon, punctually as the clock chimed a quarter to four, Miss -Augusta, neatly dressed in black, and carrying Toutou in her arms, took -her way to Gloucester Road Station and booked to King’s Cross, whence -she took a cab to 194, Handel Street, W.C. - -At about half-past six she returned. Prudence, who had been anxiously -awaiting her, jumped up eagerly as she put her head in at the door and -said, “Come into my room,” in a voice full of mysteries. - -Arrived in the centre of her own apartment Miss Semaphore turned round -and faced her sister with much solemnity. She spoke no word and began -slowly unfastening her bonnet string. The air seemed big with fate. - -“Well?” gasped Miss Prudence, “did you see her? Is it all right? What -was she like?” - -Miss Semaphore was in no haste to answer. - -“The Water—tell me quick, was it any good. Did you buy it?” - -“Look,” said Miss Semaphore with a wave of her hand. - -The eyes of Miss Prudence followed the gesture and fell on Toutou. But -was it Toutou, this transformed dog? Old, shaky, querulous, rheumatic -Toutou? She went nearer. There was a jolly, bright-eyed little beast, a -mere puppy, slim, young, and frisky, without a grey hair in his coat, -who suddenly leaped on Prudence, barking and jumping round with lively -manifestations of delight. - -“She tested it on him,” said Miss Augusta in a hollow voice, “and see -the result. Can we doubt its miraculous power any longer?” - -Miss Prudence sat down, looking quite pale and awe-stricken. This proof -overwhelmed her. - -“I am almost afraid of it,” she gasped. “It does not seem right somehow, -does it?” - -“Oh, nonsense,” exclaimed Miss Augusta pettishly. “Not right? Of course -it is. For my part I think it a most glorious and beneficent discovery, -and not calculated to harm anyone.” - -“Did she give much to Toutou? Do tell me all that happened. Was she -nice?” - -“Yes, she was very nice indeed, a well-bred, good-looking woman. The -house was not much to look at, and the servant so untidy; but Mrs. -Geldheraus told me she had only taken apartments there temporarily, as -she is leaving almost immediately for the continent. Her boxes are -packed.” - -“Does she look young herself?” - -“About twenty-three; but she assures me she is sixty-four. I could not -believe it. She showed me her baptismal certificate. It was in German, -so I could not make much out of it; but I saw the date eighteen hundred -and thirty something quite plainly.” - -“Good gracious!” - -“She was ever so civil, and insisted on giving me tea, but she would -make no reduction in her terms. She said she knew she was asking what -would be a good deal of money for an ordinary cosmetic, but for an -absolute return to youth it was ridiculously little. Many dying -millionaires or monarchs would be willing to give all their possessions -for even a few drops of it.” - -“And then?” - -“Then I spoke of requiring some proof that it was as efficacious as she -said, so she offered to give me a little then and there. I was rather -afraid to risk it, and said I’d prefer her to give some to Toutou first, -but that she should not charge extra for that, as it was simply -experimental. She agreed, and poured about half a tea-spoonful into a -saucer, mixed some milk with it, and made Toutou drink it.” - -“And did he change at once?” - -“No, he just came back in his slow, fat way, and lay down before the -fire wheezing; but she bade me watch him closely, and gradually I saw -one by one the white patches dying out of his coat. Those that came last -went first. Then I noticed that he breathed more freely, you know he was -not asthmatic until two years ago. By degrees he grew thinner, his coat -glossier, and his eyes less dim; then suddenly he sprang up and began -dashing round the room in wild spirits, just as he used to. After this I -could doubt no longer. Still, I told her our idea about post-dating the -cheque, hoped she would not be offended and all that, but I had yet to -prove if the Water would work as efficaciously on human beings as on an -animal.” - -“And did she agree?” - -“Well, she did not like the notion at all; said she had given me a -positive demonstration, and so on, which ought to satisfy me, but I -insisted. She then said she wanted the money pressingly and at once, -that this was the only reason why she let us have it, and made what -really was for her a bad bargain. The end of it was she agreed to my -post-dating the cheque two days, if I promised in the interval to take a -dose of the liquid that would satisfy me there was truth in what she -said, so I consented to take just a little as a preliminary, to-night.” - -“Oh,—will you really? Don’t you think it might be better to go away from -here first and try it somewhere down in the country, as we agreed. They -will be sure to remark so on any sudden change in you.” - -“I hope,” said Miss Augusta with severity and dignity, “you do not mean -to say I look so old that the taking off of a few years will make a very -visible difference. I am quite aware I may not look as young as I once -did, but that this is so very perceptible as you seem to imply, I really -do not believe.” - -“Oh no! of course not. I did not exactly mean that,” murmured Miss -Prudence. - -She had meant it, however, so found it difficult to explain away her -words. One generally does find it difficult under such circumstances. - -Miss Augusta, taking no further notice, proceeded to lock the precious -bottle into a drawer, and had scarcely done so when the dinner bell -rang. - -“Good gracious!” exclaimed Prudence, “I must run and dress.” - -She hastily opened the door of her room, but the frisky Toutou was too -quick for her. He darted forward and almost upset her in his eagerness -to get out. - -“How lively he is!” said Prudence in admiration. “Just like a puppy! How -did you get him home if he danced about like this?” - -“It was a troublesome business I assure you,” answered Miss Augusta, who -was too much interested and excited to sulk long with her sister. “He -jumped out of my arms and frisked up and down the carriage in the -liveliest way, so that I had the greatest difficulty in catching him -again. He was in the wildest state of delight you can imagine, barked -and leaped on all the passengers, just fancy, and he has been so -rheumatic for years! I could scarcely hold him under my cloak. He sprang -out of my arms once and very nearly broke the bottle I was carrying.” - -“How dreadful! What on earth should we have done if he had smashed it.” - -“Well, fortunately he didn’t,” said Miss Augusta shortly, refusing to -contemplate such a calamity. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - AN ACCIDENT AND ITS RESULTS. - - -With ill-concealed impatience did Miss Semaphore await her usual hour -for retiring. With a sense of agreeable expectancy did she at last seat -herself in her room before the looking-glass and proceed to brush out -her scanty tresses. In the open drawer of the table reposed the abundant -coils that graced by day the back of her head. As she brushed, she -reflected that expensive though the Water of Youth undoubtedly was, it -would at any rate spare her buying “Jetoline,” her favourite dye, for -many years to come. Women, guilty of a great extravagance, always find -comfort in meditating small economies. - -Her thoughts next turned to Toutou, and his marvellous recovery of -vigour and gaiety. She wondered if her spirits would become as light as -his. As a girl she had not been particularly lively, but she hoped in -her second girlhood her sprightlier and more freakish qualities might -develop. - -While thus reflecting, her door opened, and in came Miss Prudence to bid -her good-night. Prudence, as we have said, was a large, soft woman, -whose kindly, if feeble, nature and unruffled temper tended to preserve -her youthful roundness. In her white combing jacket, her cheeks flushed, -and her still abundant nut-brown hair falling on her shoulders, she -seemed to her sister to look particularly young. To be sure, there was -ten years difference or more in their ages, and Miss Semaphore was -always accustomed to look on Prudence as a mere girl, but even allowing -for this, to-night she might have passed for thirty. - -“I think, dear,” she said, “you really ought to put off that dose for a -day or two. We might go to Ramsgate to-morrow and engage apartments, -then, if you liked, we need not return here. I could come back and fetch -the luggage, if you gave Mrs. Wilcox a week’s notice; she would never -suspect anything. We can pretend we want change of air.” - -“I do wish you were not so silly, Prudence,” said Miss Semaphore with -acerbity. “Do you forget that I post-dated the cheque for that woman to -allow of my experimenting to-night, and she wants the money immediately. -Anyone but you would see that once she has cashed it, we cannot get it -back, whether the Water proves to be any good or not. It is essential to -test it at once, and stop payment of the draft, if necessary.” - -“But they talk so here, I am afraid—” - -“Well, really you are very rude. This is the second time you have said -something like that. To hear your tone one might think I was a hundred -at least. Oh! I know very well what you mean. It is all part of your -ridiculous fussiness. It will make very little difference. The dose is -one tablespoonful for every ten years, and having reached the proper -age, a tea-spoonful at intervals keeps one at it. Now to-night I shall -take very, very little, just enough to take off a year or two, so you -may make yourself quite easy. No one will see any difference.” - -“I wonder if it tastes bad,” said Prudence, after a short silence. - -“Not at all,” said Miss Semaphore more graciously, “I have already -dipped my finger in and laid a drop upon my tongue, and it tasted just -like common water.” - -“There can be no doubt but that it is real?” - -“Look at Toutou,” was the convincing answer. - -“Do you know I’m a little bit afraid of it,” said Miss Prudence. “I -wonder how it will feel, will it make one very queer or not. Don’t think -me selfish, Augusta, but I’m glad you are going to try it first, you -have so much more courage than I.” - -Miss Semaphore merely grunted in reply. - -“Where is the bottle, Augusta?” - -“In my drawer.” - -“It does not hold so very much,” said Prudence, meditatively lifting the -bottle to the light. - -“It does not, and oh! of course I shall require more than you, being -older.” - -“But I paid for half,” said Prudence mildly. - -“Even so, it is quite fair. Less than half will have as much effect on -you as the rest on me. We shall then be both of an age, and that will be -much pleasanter. Don’t you think so?” - -“Ye—es,” answered Prudence doubtfully, “it will be a little strange. But -do as you wish about it, Augusta; you know best. By the way, did you -remark that the bottle is cracked?” - -“Cracked? No!” cried Miss Semaphore with a little shriek of dismay, and -rushing to her sister’s side. - -Cracked it undoubtedly was. - -“It must have been Toutou in the train,” she gasped. “I was afraid of it -at the time. Oh! the naughty, naughty dog. Do be careful, Prudence. Put -it down softly. She said it was to be kept carefully corked.” - -“Oh, the crack is very slight; it does not matter,” said Miss Prudence, -as she obeyed. “Toutou, my precious,” to the tricksy little dog that was -now rolling on the floor, playing with the fringe of the curtains, and -trying many long-forgotten games. “Toutou, you nearly did serious damage -to your missus’s property, naughty ducksie wucksie.” - -Toutou rushed at her with enthusiasm, and was with difficulty persuaded -to enter his basket. Then Miss Prudence, with a portentous yawn, bade -her sister good-night, and opened the door into the adjoining room. - -Left alone, Miss Semaphore slowly divested herself of her wearing -apparel, donned her night-gear, and tied on the night-cap of her youth, -adhered to despite change of fashion. Notwithstanding the confidence of -her manner to her sister, she was secretly a little nervous, now that -she was actually to make the experiment. Her spirits went up and down -like a see-saw. At one moment she saw herself surrounded by admirers, -singing, dancing, with fresh, unwrinkled complexion, bright colour, dark -curly hair innocent of “Jetoline.” A ravishing picture. Again she felt -like a patient at a dentist’s about to take gas for the first time. What -would it be like. Oh, if only Toutou, if only anyone who had tried it -could tell her exactly how it felt. Would she lose consciousness or feel -pain? Might it not possibly kill her? By this time she had worked -herself to a state of intolerable nervousness. She got into bed, and, -sitting up, hugging the precious bottle in one hand, and a tea-spoon in -the other, tried to decide whether she would actually make the -experiment or not. By her bed, within easy reach, burned a gas jet, -which she always turned out last thing, and a small table stood near, on -which lay a book, a newspaper, a box of matches, and a glass. - -“Just a very little,” she murmured, “that can do no harm. Only make me a -few years younger. She would never have ventured to give me anything -dangerous or poisonous.” - -Her hands trembled. - -Can one fancy the impatience of an old woman who had missed the joys of -life, to be young? A woman with the means in her grasp? Miss Semaphore -panted with excitement; her heart thumped like a steam hammer. Twice she -took up the bottle from the table. Twice she laid it down again. - -“Just a very little,” ran her thoughts, “a few drops to see what it is -like.” - -Alas for her nervousness! By some untoward movement the frill of her -sleeve caught the bottle, and knocked it over. For one terrible moment -she sat as if petrified, watching the Water of Youth flowing across the -table, and dribbling on to the floor on the side farthest from her. -Then, quick as lightning, she jumped out of her bed, got down on her -knees, and received the little stream into her open mouth as the liquid -gushed over the edge. That her position was undignified did not trouble -her, did not even enter her mind. The overwhelming nature of the -misfortune, and how to rectify it, as far as possible, alone occupied -her. The bottle had broken in half where it was cracked, so that the -contents rushed out at once. She swallowed all that flowed freely, and, -damming the rest with her finger, stood up. The Water was horribly -wasted. Some had soaked into the carpet. The newspaper had received a -certain amount, and this, owing to a lucky crease, formed a little pool -on its surface. Now, for the first time, Miss Semaphore thought of her -sister, whose money had been equally invested in the purchase. Should -she call Prudence, tell her what had happened, and bid her drink the -little that remained? The fear that there would not be enough for -herself prevailed, and stifling the voice of conscience, Augusta -gathered up the paper with delicate fingers, carefully made it into a -sort of funnel, and drank off its contents. Then she sat down on the -side of the bed, and considered her conduct with a certain amount of -shame, not unmingled with alarm. So far, she felt nothing more than the -sensation of having swallowed a quantity of cold water of peculiar -flavour. - -“After all,” she said, to stifle her remorse, “there was scarcely -sufficient to make one person young, not to speak of two, and I wanted -it much more than Prudence. Why, she does not want it at all! She looked -quite a girl just now. Besides, there really was no time. Before I could -have roused her and explained matters the water would have soaked -through the paper. Of course I shall have to return her the money she -advanced. I am quite willing to do that if she makes a fuss. Perhaps -it’s just as well I did not call her. She was frightened to-night at the -idea of drinking it. I really think she would prefer not to have any.” - -Despite these powerful arguments Miss Semaphore felt rather mean as she -crept once more between the sheets, and turned out the gas with a jerk. -For a long time she lay wakeful, thinking of what the morrow might -bring, of how she could tell Prudence there was no Water of Youth left -for her, or of how she could best get away from Beaconsfield Gardens -without being noticed, if she found herself only twenty, and other -reflections of the same kind, until at last tired out by the excitements -of the day she fell asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - PRUDENCE RECEIVES A SHOCK. - - -Miss Prudence Semaphore slept placidly. It was her nature to do -everything as placidly as possible. Nightmares rarely visited her. When -Miss Augusta was crosser than usual, or the latest man at 37, -Beaconsfield Gardens, on whom she tried to fix her easy affections, -showed that he had no thought of her, she sometimes wept herself to -sleep. Seldom, however, did she experience the discomfort of a _nuit -blanche_. - -On this particular occasion she dreamt that she was flying through space -to Florida in search of the Fountain of Youth. Suddenly her wings failed -her. She fell like another Icarus down, down, down, awaking with a start -and a stifled gasp. She sat bolt upright in bed, and tried to think -where she was. The familiar room dimly seen, the light of the street -lamps, filtering through the Venetian blinds, the sound of passing cabs, -a neighbouring clock chiming three, all reassured her. - -With a sigh of relief she turned over to sleep again, when a weird -wailing attracted her attention. Miss Prudence listened. Her heart beat -fast. The wailing seemed close at hand. Did it come from above or below? -Noises are proverbially difficult to locate. Miss Prudence subscribed to -“Borderland,” and a thousand unpleasant conjectures assailed her. There -was something unearthly, she fancied, in the cry, and though she -muttered “ridiculous,” the exclamation did not entirely restore her -presence of mind. So far, indeed, was the idea from being really -ridiculous to her, that, as the sound continued to rise and fall feebly, -Miss Prudence lay back in bed, and pulled the clothes over her head. She -could not be happy thus, however. Half suffocated, she emerged from time -to time to hear if it still continued. When at last it ceased, somewhat -tranquillised by the silence, she pulled down the blankets and began to -consider what the cause of disturbance could possibly be. - -A solution flashed through her mind—the kitten! She remembered suddenly -that Mrs. Dumaresq had lately complained of a pet kitten that played -about the house having strayed into her room, and been locked up -accidentally in the wardrobe. - -“The very thing! It must be the kitten,” thought Miss Prudence. - -The wail, after a short interval, was renewed, and this time Miss -Prudence distinctly recognised the cry of a young cat. - -Full of courage she jumped out of bed, struck a light, put on her -dressing-gown and slippers, and began to search for pussy. - -She tried the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, looked under the bed and -up the chimney, but in vain. The creature was not to be found. As she -passed the door communicating with her sister’s room, it seemed to her -that the sound came from there. - -She opened the door softly, and shading the light with one hand, gently -called “puss, puss, puss.” Nothing came. The cry, however, sounded -distinctly nearer, louder, and more human. - -“Augusta! what is that noise? Augusta! are you awake?” said Miss -Prudence with renewed alarm. - -There was no answer but a prolonged wail. Really frightened, Prudence -advanced into the room, holding the candle above her head. All was as -she had left it, except, except—Where was Augusta? The bed was empty. -The room was empty. Filled with an indefinable terror, Prudence advanced -to her sister’s bedside. Oh! horror! Augusta was gone, and in her place -lay—what? A little, shrivelled, red-faced baby, wailing feebly, a huge -night-cap fallen back off its bald head, a woman’s night-dress lying -round it in folds a world too wide. - -“My God!” exclaimed poor Prudence, “what on earth is this? Am I going -mad? Where is Augusta?” Her distracted glance lighted on the broken -bottle, and a sudden gleam of intelligence lit up her brain. “Are you -Augusta?” she cried to the baby. The tearful baby seemed to make a -desperate but ineffectual effort to speak. It appeared to be on the -brink of convulsions. There was intelligence in its eye, however, and -her worst fears confirmed, poor Prudence dropped the candlestick on her -toes, and went into violent hysterics. - -Fortunately for her, the room was at the end of a passage, removed from -the other sleeping apartments by an intervening bath room. Underneath it -was the now empty drawing-room, while overhead reposed the deaf Mrs. -Belcher. Thus and thus alone did her shrieks fail to rouse the -household. Every now and then she made an effort at self-control, but -again and again the grotesque horror of the situation overcame her. - -It was dawn before she pulled herself together and faced her position. -With reflection came a burst of anger most unusual to the placid woman. - -“Augusta,” she said sternly to the baby, which had ceased weeping, as if -frightened at its sister’s distress. “Augusta, do you understand me?” - -The baby apparently tried to nod. - -“Can’t you speak?” - -The baby shook its head. - -“It is no use, I suppose, in that case, asking how this terrible -misfortune has come about?” - -The baby blinked speechlessly. It was not an engaging child. To -Prudence, much as she loved her sister, it seemed strange and absolutely -hateful. - -“You little wretch!” she cried, over-mastered by her rising anger. -“Don’t you see the horrible position you have placed us both in? You -took too much. You must have been a nasty, greedy, selfish, foolish -thing to have swallowed up all that water, or this would never have -happened. Are you really my sister? How can I prove it? Who will believe -me? Perhaps the next thing will be that I shall be hanged for having -murdered her.” At this thought Prudence was for a moment on the verge of -fresh hysterics. - -“What on earth am I to do? There you are, a baby to all intents and -purposes. My good gracious! what on earth shall I do with you? I cannot -keep you in this house. How can I explain? They won’t believe me—why, I -wouldn’t believe it myself if anyone told me. How shall I account for -your disappearance? and you can’t even speak to back me up if I tell the -truth. Not you! You’d see me hanged and never say a word”—which was -unjust, considering poor Augusta was not able to speak. Lashing herself -to fury, Prudence paced up and down the room, wringing her hands. - -“Augusta! I always was a good sister to you, and bore with your tempers, -and divided everything with you; but now, you horrid, selfish, ugly -little thing, I declare I hate you. I’ll just wrap you up in a shawl, -and drop you somewhere. Oh, you lit—tle wr—r—retch, I should like to -shake you.” - -Suiting the action to the word, Prudence pounced on the baby, and shook -it till its big cap fell quite off, and its head wobbled. - -Augusta was terrified, and began to howl lustily. She was so small, so -helpless, that a certain revulsion of pity came over Prudence. She -ceased shaking, and tried to soothe her. - -“There now! there now!” she exclaimed, exactly as if speaking to a real -baby, “don’t cry. I’ll see what can be done. I suppose you took an -overdose. Will you try and put up your hand if you did?” - -The baby put up its hand. - -“Does it hurt? do you feel bad?” - -The baby shook its bald head, and made an ineffectual attempt to -demonstrate that its sufferings were chiefly mental. - -“Now will you just be quiet and cease crying, and let me think it all -over. Try to go to sleep if you can. Perhaps some of it may wear off, -and you’ll be bigger by and bye.” - -Tucking the baby up in bed, Prudence began restlessly to pace the room, -pausing now and again to look at the queer little creature that had -plunged her into such unexpected difficulties. In despair she thrust her -hands into her hair, and gnawed at her fingers. Finally she flung -herself into a chair by the window, and, staring blankly into the -street, tried to devise some means out of her dilemma. The more she -thought of it, the more serious and unpleasant did it appear. How -Augusta could have been so foolish as to finish the contents of the -bottle, how the bottle itself came to be broken, she could only imagine. -The result at any rate was sufficiently deplorable. Her sister had not -stopped at eight-and-thirty, nor eight-and-twenty, nor even eighteen, as -would have been natural and delightful, but had gone at a bound to about -eight days old. - -“What a mercy,” thought Prudence, kind-hearted in the midst of her anger -and perplexity, “what a mercy that there were not a few drops more, or -what would have become of her!” - -After long cogitation the lady who had hitherto been the younger Miss -Semaphore rose, went into her own room, dressed, bathed her swollen -eyelids, and smoothed her hair. Then she returned to her sister’s -bedside. - -Augusta was wide awake, but she had ceased crying. It was only by her -eyes, big with intelligence, and looking weird and uncanny in her ugly -little red face, that Prudence saw reason still reigned within her -diminished body, A “queer child,” a “fairy changeling,” an “elfish -infant,” would be the terms applied to Miss Semaphore by anyone not in -the secret of her rejuvenescence. - -“Augusta,” said Prudence solemnly, “I have thought it all out. -Immediately after breakfast I will go in search of this Mrs. Geldheraus, -and see if she cannot provide you with some—some antidote for this -horrible state of things. If she cannot, I don’t know what will become -of you. It is no use telling the truth to the people in this house. In -the first place it would be a very disagreeable matter to go into, and -make us seem very ridiculous. In the second they would not believe me. -My only chance, if I don’t succeed in getting something to cure you, is -to tell them to-day that you have had a letter summoning you to the -country on important business. I shall make excuses later for your -having had to hurry off to catch a train without saying good-bye to -anyone. Meantime I must hide you here somewhere in this room or in mine -until to-night, and knowing how much depends on it, I do implore you to -be quiet and not cry. If Mrs. Geldheraus fails me, I shall enquire -everywhere for some good, kind woman who will take care of you till you -grow a little older, for of course you must see how impossible it would -be for me to go about with a baby of your age. This evening, after -dinner, when it is dark, I will try to smuggle you out unobserved to the -woman, if I can find one suitable, then give warning, and go to some -quiet place where nobody knows us, and where I can perhaps have you back -to live with me. Now what do you think of my plan? Do you like it?” - -Augusta evidently did not, for she shook her head as vehemently as she -could. - -“Well,” said Prudence crossly, “if you don’t you needn’t. I can think of -nothing better, and you are not able to give me much help or advice. You -have only yourself to thank for having brought all this trouble on us. -I’m sure I never was so worried in my life.” - -Augusta was perforce silent, but her eyes followed every movement of her -sister. - -“Now,” continued Prudence, as the breakfast gong sounded, “I must go -downstairs. I shall say you have had a bad night, and desire no -breakfast. I shall lock the door of your room so that the housemaid may -not come in, and shall bring you up a cup of milk. I suppose that is the -proper thing for you. Can you eat anything solid?” - -Augusta showed two rows of toothless gums. Milk evidently should be her -diet. - -“Well, for goodness’ sake keep quiet. I will come back as soon as I -possibly can,” and with this farewell, Miss Prudence descended. Alas! -poor woman, dark as were her forebodings, she little knew what was to be -faced, nor how difficult she would find the execution of her simple and -excellent plan for the temporary concealment of Augusta. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - A CAREER OF DECEPTION. - - -Never did a placid, good-natured woman, habitually truthful, -unaccustomed to all save the shallowest of plots, unused to taking the -initiative, and indeed, preferring to depend on the advice of others, -find herself in a more unpleasant predicament than did Miss Prudence -Semaphore. That her dilemma originated in no fault of her own, served in -no wise to console her. To a certain extent she rose to the situation -and decided, with a promptitude that for her was marvellous, on a course -of action, but she longed for some friendly soul to whom she could tell -her difficulties, and whose counsel she could seek. Happily, perhaps, -for the keeping of her secret, she had to bear her own burden in -silence, and take all the responsibility on her own weak shoulders. - -A very pale and tremulous Miss Prudence appeared at the breakfast table -on the morning of the tragedy related in our last chapter. - -“Dear, dear! How ill you look!” was the medical lady’s cheerful -greeting. “Have you had a bad night?” - -Miss Prudence admitted that she had. - -“And your sister?—How late she is to-day. She is generally one of the -first down.” - -“She is not very well this morning, and I persuaded her to stay in bed,” -said Prudence, colouring to the eyes, as she embarked on her career of -falsehood. - -“Very wise of you; she had much better breakfast in her room if she is -feeling ill. There is some nice kedgeree she might like.” - -“Thank you,” said Prudence with embarrassment. “Do not mind it. She told -me she would take no breakfast, but I said I would bring her up a cup of -milk and make her drink it.” - -“One of her bilious attacks, no doubt, since she refuses to eat,” said -the medical lady. - -“Yes, yes,” assented Miss Prudence eagerly. “That is what it is—a bad -bilious attack.” - -“Do you think then,” asked the medical lady severely, “that it is wise -of you to give her milk?” - -“Oh, yes!” said poor Miss Prudence “She likes it—it is good for her—she -takes nothing else.” - -“Indeed!” said the medical lady, helping herself to potted sardines. -“That is very singular for a bilious subject, but no doubt you know -best.” - -“Does Miss Semaphore often suffer from these unpleasant attacks?” asked -Mrs. Whitley. - -“No,” said Prudence. “Never—that is to say—yes—frequently.” - -Mrs. Whitley looked astonished, as well she might, and Prudence, to -avoid further cross-examination, began to read the paper upside down. -The paper, unfortunately, belonged to Mr. Lorimer, and was one of the -points whereon he was touchy. He could not bear anyone to look at it -unless specially invited thereto by him. Presently the abstracted -Prudence became aware that an angry altercation was in progress, between -her neighbour and Müller. - -“Müller!” he growled. - -“Blease?” said Müller enquiringly. - -“Where the devil have you put _The Standard_?” - -Mrs. Whitley prepared to look shocked at such language, but first -glanced at Mrs. Dumaresq, from whom she took her cue. Mrs. Dumaresq, -however, only smiled slightly. - -“I left it dere,” said Müller. - -“But you didn’t. If you had it would be here now.” - -“I—I believe I have it,” stammered Prudence, suddenly awaking to what -was going on. - -“Oh, you have, have you?” said Mr. Lorimer crossly, taking it without a -word of apology from her outstretched hand. “I do not provide papers for -the benefit of this establishment.” - -“It is more blessed to give than to receive,” put in Mrs. Whitley -archly, with the sweet smile of the peacemaker. - -“No doubt, ma’am,” replied Mr. Lorimer savagely, “but it’s a good deal -more expensive,” and he became absorbed in the columns of his oracle. - -The ladies exchanged glances. The subject of Mr. Lorimer and his paper -was a standing joke in the house, and Mrs. Whitley whispered to Prudence -not to mind him, it was “only his way.” Prudence, indeed, poor woman, -was too much occupied with her own troubles to take the young man’s -rudeness to heart, and after passing a few minutes in breaking her toast -and sipping her tea, she felt justified in rising from table. She took a -cup of milk with her and departed, watched by the medical lady, who -shook her head. - -The younger Miss Semaphore found her sister rolling her eyes in the most -alarming fashion. - -“What is the matter?” she asked, but Augusta of course was unable to -tell. She fixed an angry glance, however, on the door of her sister’s -room and nodded towards it. Something in that direction was evidently -the cause of her displeasure. As a matter of fact she had had a fright. -While Prudence was downstairs, one of the housemaids, not knowing that -anyone was there, made an attempt to get in, and as the lock on that -particular door was shaky, Miss Semaphore expected every moment to see -the girl enter the room. She could not explain this, so had to content -herself with looking cross. - -Prudence pulled the curtains, moved a number of things, saying each -time, “Is it this?” “Is it that?” but failing naturally, to get a reply, -she gave up the attempt and began to feed her sister. The operation was -not successful. - -Prudence proved but an awkward nurse. Augusta being, in body at least, -practically but eight days old, choked, cried, and had to be patted on -the back when she got too large a spoonful of milk. Half the contents of -the cup went the wrong way. Augusta kicked, and spilt a portion on the -carpet, but at last the meal was got through, though with little -satisfaction to either sister. - -“Now,” said Prudence, as she finished her task, “I shall have to leave -you alone for some time.” - -Augusta evidently disliked the idea of being left alone, for she -immediately screwed up her face into contortions that announced an -outburst of weeping. - -“Oh, stop! do stop!” cried her sister exasperated, “they are sure to -hear you if you cry. How inconsiderate you are! For goodness sake do be -quiet and think a little of someone beside yourself. What else am I to -do? It is all very well for you to object, but something must be done -and done quickly, and as you cannot help me, I must decide for myself. I -shall go at once to Mrs. Geldheraus and implore of her to give me -something to cure you. She is sure to know what should be done, and in -the meantime I beg of you keep quiet, or Mary will hear you in the -corridor. I shall tell her you are ill and on no account to be -disturbed.” - -Augusta apparently listened to reason, for gradually her features -relaxed and she ceased whimpering. Prudence put on her bonnet, veil, and -mantle, tucked in the elderly infant, locked the doors carefully, warned -Mary, and started off to find the explorer’s widow. - -The poor lady’s mind was a chaos of conflicting thought and emotions as -she wound her way through the Bloomsbury squares to Handel Street. No. -194 was gaunt and dingy. Over the door hung a framed card, bearing the -legend, “Apartments,” and on the sill of the dining-room window sat a -black cat, lazily washing herself in the sun. In answer to repeated -ringing, a dirty servant, with her cap all to one side, opened the door. - -“Mrs. Geldheraus,” she said, “she ain’t here. Left this morning first -thing, she did. Had a tellygram last night to hurry up.” - -Prudence never knew till that moment when her heart sank heavy as lead, -how hope had buoyed her up. - -“Where has she gone to?” she asked feebly. “Will she return?” - -“She’s gone to Paris,” said the maid, “an’ I don’t think she’s a-coming -back.” - -“Can you give me her address in Paris?” - -“She wrote something out for missus, as to where letters was to be sent -for her. If you’ll step in an’ wait a bit, mum, I’ll see if I can get it -for you. I can’t read them furrin names.” - -Prudence stepped into the stuffy hall and waited. - -Presently the maid returned with a halfsheet of note-paper, on which -only the words “Poste Restante, Paris,” were written. Bitterly -disappointed the younger Miss Semaphore turned away. - -“Even if I write to her,” she said to herself, “it will mean a couple of -days delay at the very least, and great Heaven! what should I do if -anyone saw Augusta in the meantime? I must see to some place for her at -once, and get her out of that house.” - -The very weakest women, when forced into a position of danger and -responsibility, will act with a certain energy, and will display a -resourcefulness that surprises no one more than it surprises themselves. -Necessity is a hard taskmaster, who makes people capable of feats -hitherto undreamt of by them. - -Miss Semaphore’s first move, therefore, was to find a small stationer’s -shop, where she obtained permission to write a letter. The letter was to -Mrs. Geldheraus, marked “Urgent and Private.” In it she detailed the -horrible accident that had happened to her sister, and implored the -explorer’s widow to write or wire particulars of an antidote, if there -was one, and in all cases to let her know exactly how the Water of Youth -worked, and how long its effects were likely to last in such a case. She -said, “You can imagine the dreadful position in which I am placed. My -sister is altered out of knowledge; though she still seems, so far as I -can judge, to preserve her memory and understanding, she cannot speak. -You have left England, and the story sounds so improbable, that I cannot -hope any of our friends would believe me if I told them the truth. I -live in terror of my sister being discovered under her present aspect, -so implore you to lose no time in relieving my suspense.” - -This she posted, but the most gloomy apprehensions assailed her. - -“Mrs. Geldheraus may not call for letters for a week,” she reflected, -“and where on earth can I hide Augusta? Who will take her? What story -can I tell about her? It is distracting!” - -By degrees she grew a little calmer. It would not be difficult, she -hoped, to find some decent woman to mind her sister at her own home. -Surely there were plenty of people in London willing to take care of a -child. She would enquire. Meantime it struck her that Augusta looked -ridiculous in her great night-dress and cap, so that before placing her -in the hands of any stranger it would be necessary to buy her a complete -set of baby linen. - -To this end, having walked to the top of Tottenham Court Road she hailed -a hansom, and drove to Westbourne Grove. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - A PROMISING ADVERTISEMENT. - - -With no little diffidence did Miss Prudence Semaphore, a woman quite -unused to the ways and wants of babies, present herself at the special -counter in Whiteley’s devoted to their needs, and falter out that she -required a complete outfit for an infant. The attendant who waited on -her considered that she had a most extraordinary customer to deal with, -for the lady neither knew the age of the child nor the names and -quantities of the needful garments, and when she finally took everything -that was suggested to her, she required instruction as to how and in -what order the various articles were to be put on. Having requested that -a parcel of the most indispensable objects should be given to her, and -that the remainder should be delivered that afternoon at 37, -Beaconsfield Gardens, the next step for Miss Prudence was to find a -nurse who would undertake the care of Augusta. This at once landed her -in difficulties. She first thought of appealing to the shop-woman, but -the manner of that superior young person was so lofty that the words -died on Miss Semaphore’s lips. The Universal Provider certainly did not -provide homes for infants. Prudence dared not ask any of her -acquaintances as to a suitable person, yet could not imagine how else -she was to get one. She could not seize the first respectable-looking -body that passed by and ask her would she mind an infant. Like a woman -with a guilty secret she wandered up and down the Grove, looking vaguely -into shop windows but seeing nothing, and wondering all the time what -she was to do. It seemed almost as desperate an undertaking to get rid -of a baby as to get rid of a corpse. - -At last the idea struck her that the laundress who washed for herself -and her sister might know of someone suitable. Mrs. Robbins lived at -Hammersmith, and Miss Prudence, hailing an omnibus going in that -direction, got in. If Mrs. Robbins could not help her, what was she to -do? As she journeyed on, however, doubts as to the wisdom of consulting -Mrs. Robbins assailed her. She would put herself, to a certain extent, -in the woman’s power, and the civilest of laundresses might not be -pleasant as a _confidante_. Again, Mrs. Robbins might gossip with the -servants at Beaconsfield Gardens, and as Miss Semaphore’s one aim was to -avoid the tongues of her fellow-boarders, she felt the risk to be too -great. - -Accordingly, though she had paid her fare to Hammersmith Broadway, she -presently signalled to the conductor to set her down. - -“We ain’t there yet, mum,” said that functionary. “You sed ’Ammersmith.” - -“No matter, no matter,” answered Miss Prudence, “I wish to be set down -here.” - -The man obeyed, and the lady was left standing on the pathway, -considering what she should do next. - -Mechanically she turned down a side street, and noticed at the door of a -clean-looking house a chubby-faced, bright young woman, nursing a baby. -Summoning up all her courage, Miss Semaphore approached her, and with -unconscious diplomacy remarked, - -“What a very fine child! Is it yours?” - -“Yes ’m,” replied the beaming mother. “My third ’e is, just six months -old, bless ’is little ’eart; but ’e ain’t looking well now, not ’e, ’e’s -teething, and that do so pull a hinfant down.” - -“He is a beauty,” said Miss Prudence. “Should you be disposed to -undertake the care of another child—a—a little younger, if you were well -paid for it?” - -“No ’m, that I shouldn’t,” said the young woman promptly. “My own three -is enough for me, an’ my old man I know he wouldn’t like it, nohow.” - -“Could you recommend any careful, respectable woman who would?” - -“I can’t say as I do. Ain’t the child’s parents living, or is it yer -own?” - -“Oh, no!” said Miss Prudence, blushing to the eyes, “the child is an -orphan.” - -“Poor little thing. Sorry I carn’t ’elp you, ’m, but I don’t know a -suitable party.” - -A second application, this to a decent-looking body who was sweeping out -a particularly dingy chapel, met with no better success. - -A third woman did know of someone whose child had died and who might, -perhaps, be willing to care for a baby, but on looking for the street -where the person was said to live, Miss Semaphore found that some -mistake had been made in the address, and that no one knew of any such -place. The people she asked made various suggestions as to where she -should go, and she tried them all without result. - -Discouraged by so many failures, tired and weak from want of food, the -spirits of our poor Prudence sank to zero. - -“What am I to do with her?” she asked, as if calling creation to witness -her perplexity “Shall I find no one to take her?” - -While in this disturbed frame of mind she walked meditatively onward, -and stopped before a little newspaper and tobacco shop, reading the -posters displayed outside, without understanding a word. Suddenly, -amidst the tumult of her thoughts, she noticed that a pleasant-looking -woman was sitting behind the counter reading and knitting. This stranger -might help her. She entered, and having selected and paid for a -_Graphic_, and read some remarks on the weather, said as if though an -after-thought, - -“By the way, do you know of any respectable woman that would take care -of a baby?” - -“Do you mean a nurse to live indoors, ma’am, or a person to take care of -the child at her own home?” - -“I mean someone who would take a baby to live with her, and show it -every kindness.” - -“That’s not so easy to get, ma’am, and I can’t say as I do know anyone I -could recommend.” Then, with a sharp glance, “May I arsk if the child is -your own?” - -“Oh dear, no!” cried Miss Prudence hastily. “It is my sister.” - -“Your sister’s—a— And is your sister dead?” - -“Dead! of course not. Why should I want a home for her if she were?” - -“Beg pardon, ma’am, I didn’t understand you wanted a home for the lady -too, I thought as you said only for the baby.” - -“It _is_ only for the baby,” replied Prudence in confusion. “The baby is -my sister.” - -“Your sister?” repeated the woman, surprised. “Your sister a baby?” - -“Yes,” answered Prudence, rather nettled. “My sister is a baby, there is -nothing so wonderful in that I hope.” - -The woman looked as if she would like to ask some further questions, but -checked herself and said, - -“Oh, of course not. It’s none of my business, anyhow—and by the way I’ve -just remembered something that might do if I can find it. About six -months ago one of my customers arsked me to put up a bill in the window, -wishing for to adopt a child, an’ I did, but nothink came of it, and so -I took it down after a month or two and put it aside somewhere. If I -could find it, it might be somethink like you want.” - -“Pray do look for it. I shall be greatly obliged.” - -After some rummaging in various drawers and boxes, and calling upstairs -to an invisible “’Lizer,” the document, dirty and fly-stained, was found -under a heap of old newspapers and handed to Prudence. - -It read:— - - “A respectable married woman, having no children of her own, would - like to adopt or mind a healthy baby. Comfortable home. Care and - affection of a mother guaranteed. Premium required. Address, by letter - only, X. Y. Z., 42, Plummer’s Cottages, Barker’s Rents, Elm Lane.” - -Miss Prudence was enchanted. - -“The very thing!” she exclaimed. “‘Comfortable home.’ ‘Care and -affection of a mother guaranteed.’ Just what I want.” - -She copied the address, thanked the shop-woman profusely, and gave her -half-a-crown for her trouble. Lunch hour at Beaconsfield Gardens was -long past, so Prudence ate a bun, drank a glass of milk, and thought she -had done a good morning’s work. - -The chief drawback was that she should now have to keep Augusta -concealed for at least another day, instead of being able to smuggle her -out of the house that night as she had hoped. It was a risk, but she had -no alternative, much as she dreaded the secret in some way getting out. -She found Augusta sleeping. A vague hope had sprung up in her breast -that on her return she might discover her sister in her normal -condition, and be able to look back on the events of the night as a bad -dream. She was doomed to disappointment. It was all but too real. -Without disturbing the infant, at whom she gazed for a time with mingled -pity and aversion, she sat down and wrote at once to X. Y. Z., asking -that respectable married woman if she were still willing to undertake -the care of a baby, and if she would write, or wire by return, -appointing a place of meeting, as there was a little baby girl she would -like to entrust to her motherly care. - -Though she was unwilling that the child should be permanently adopted, -she felt sure that some mutually satisfactory arrangement might be -entered into. She wound up, “Pray write or telegraph at once without -fail, as the case is urgent, and I will pay you handsomely for your -trouble.” This she signed with initials, gave the address of a -neighbouring stationer’s, where letters were received at a penny each, -and posted it herself. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - IN WHICH MISS PRUDENCE EXPLAINS MATTERS. - - -The next thing Miss Prudence felt she should do was to see Mrs. Wilcox -and prepare her for hearing at any time that Augusta had left suddenly. -Mrs. Wilcox sat in the little room she called her Office, where she -received callers on business, made up her books, wrote letters, and -otherwise employed herself. - -“I am so sorry to hear your sister is not well,” she said as Prudence -entered. “I hope she feels better now.” - -“Not much, I am afraid,” said Prudence. - -“Will she be able to come down to tea?” - -“I—I fear not.” - -“Then she is worse than I thought. I had better go and see her. Will you -tell her I will come up presently?” - -“Oh, thanks, but I don’t think it would be advisable to disturb her just -now. She prefers keeping quite quiet. You see this is—is a very severe -attack. I never saw her quite like this before.” - -“Good gracious! You don’t say she is as ill as all that?” cried Mrs. -Wilcox, whose one weakness was a frantic fear of contagious maladies. -“You don’t think it can be any thing serious coming on? They say there -is a lot of fever and diphtheria about. Excuse my asking, Miss Prudence, -but what are her symptoms? We must take precautions in a house like -this.” - -“Her symptoms? Oh, her symptoms—her symptoms are rather peculiar.” - -“Indeed. Head-ache? Sore throat? Pain in the back?” - -“No, no. Nothing like that. I—am sure it is nothing infectious.” - -“I hope not, but please tell me what does she complain of?” - -“A—a sort of shrinking feeling?” - -“Oh! a sinking feeling. No doubt the stomach is out of order. She has -taken something that disagreed with her.” - -“I feel sure she has.” - -“But if there is nothing more serious than this feeling of sinking, she -will probably be able to come down to dinner. Meals in the bedrooms you -know are such a trouble to the servants.” - -“I don’t think she can come down. She is far too ill. She won’t take any -dinner. Just a glass of milk.” - -“But, Miss Prudence, I fear she must really have some other symptoms -that you are keeping back from me. Do pray tell me frankly what else you -see amiss with her.” - -“Well,” said the badgered Prudence, “I have noticed a—a—a sort of -childishness about her.” - -“Good Heavens! You don’t say so! She is not—not delirious? Not wandering -in her mind, is she?” - -“No, no. She is very silent—on the contrary—has not spoken to me at -all.” - -“But you said she was childish.” - -“I did not mean in that way—it is difficult to explain.” - -“It seems to be,” said Mrs. Wilcox drily, “in your place I should have -Doctor Creedy in at once. You know, Miss Semaphore, we must take -precautions—we must take precautions—and if your sister has any symptoms -betokening infectious disease, I lay it on you as a matter of conscience -to tell me about it at once, that her removal may be arranged for before -it is too late.” - -“You are mistaken, indeed, you are mistaken, Mrs. Wilcox,” urged poor -Miss Prudence, with tears in her eyes. “There is no possible need for -alarm. It really is nothing catching. I only wish it were.” - -“I’m sure I don’t,” interjected Mrs. Wilcox, more than ever amazed by -the confusion of Prudence. - -“Well, I don’t exactly mean that, but there is no earthly cause for -alarm on your part. If Augusta had anything serious the matter with her, -anything in that way, I’d be the very first to tell you, and to send for -the doctor, but she hasn’t. She just is—is—not quite herself—has very -little appetite and so on—I—I saw a great change in her appearance this -morning, and it alarmed me. I think, and she agrees with me—indeed this -is what I came to say, that if she went away to-morrow or next day for -change of air, and meantime kept very quiet, was not disturbed in any -way or by anyone, she would soon be all right.” - -“You know best!” said Mrs. Wilcox, “but don’t you really think it would -be well for me to go up and see her presently? I would not disturb her -in the least.” - -“Thanks, no. I should say it would be better not. She does not like -being roused in any way. She is so silent; in fact,” with a flash of -inspiration, “she has completely lost her voice. Then the shrinking—I -mean, of course, as you say, the sinking—is so painful.” - -“Oh, very well,” said Mrs. Wilcox offended, “I do not want to press the -matter. But I think she had better have something to eat. What shall it -be? A glass of milk is nothing.” - -“She cares for nothing else.” - -“But don’t you think she ought to have some beef-tea and a little dry -toast? That cannot possibly harm her.” - -“Very well. Anything you like,” said Prudence desperately, for she felt -she could stand no more questioning, and gladly made her escape to her -own room under cover of Mrs. Wilcox’s directions to the cook on behalf -of the supposed invalid. - -Mary, the housemaid, presently brought up a tray and tried the handle of -Augusta’s door, only to find it locked. Prudence peeped out of her -apartment and bade the girl lay the tray on the mat, promising to take -it in presently. At this, Mary, who did not like the Misses Semaphore, -flounced angrily downstairs, muttering, “Some people is so mystearyous.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - THE MEDICAL LADY INTERVENES. - - -Miss Prudence did not appear at afternoon tea, so the symptoms of her -sister, her refusal, or, at least, disinclination to call in a doctor, -her extraordinary confusion and contradictory statements, as detailed by -Mrs. Wilcox, were canvassed with much freedom by the boarders present. -Mrs. Wilcox discreetly abstained from mentioning her suspicions, or -using the ugly word “infection,” but she privately requested the medical -lady to visit the invalid, and make a truthful report as to her -condition. - -The medical lady was a woman who had no weakness about her. She always -recommended drastic remedies, and applied them if possible. She -professed to enjoy her cold tub in the iciest weather. Nothing would -persuade her that anyone who paled or fainted at the sight of blood or -of ghastly accidents, or corpses, or took no delight in anatomical -specimens in bottles, was not an affected creature. Mice she herself -disliked, but that, she argued, was different. She administered physic -with pleasure, and the nastier it was, and the more the ridiculous -patient disliked it, the more she insisted on giving it as prescribed. -She liked to take command of a sick-room as an admiral of his quarter -deck, putting the invalid’s relatives to one side and making them feel -they were intruders. As she assured them that responsibility for the -death of the person afflicted would lie at their door if they resisted, -they were generally afraid to turn her out, while the invalid was -unable. She inspired Miss Prudence with terror, which expressed itself -in slavish deference and humility, for, conscious of her own weakness, -she felt, and with justice, that the medical lady despised her. - -The younger Miss Semaphore was sitting solitary in her own room by the -window, absorbed in anxious thought. The door of communication with her -sister’s apartment stood open, so that she commanded a view of the bed -and of the infant Augusta. Suddenly she started to her feet. Someone had -knocked sharply at Augusta’s door, and immediately turned the handle. -Finding it resisted efforts to open it, the voice of the medical lady -was heard in the corridor, saying sweetly, “My dear Miss Semaphore, will -you not let me in? I have come to enquire how you are.” - -Augusta heard, and, forgetful of her voiceless condition, evidently made -a desperate effort to summon Prudence, for she gave a feeble whimper. - -“Hush! Do be quiet,” cried Prudence in a frightened, undertone. Then -opening her own door, she looked out into the corridor. The medical lady -was discovered kneeling on the mat and trying to peep through the -keyhole. She started into an erect position with marvellous celerity. - -“Do you want anything, Miss Lord,” asked Prudence timidly, yet with -something of resentment in her tone. - -“Oh! your dear sister,” said Miss Lord, slightly embarrassed, I just -wanted to see her, but somehow I cannot open the door. I thought that -possibly she might be glad of my services.” - -“The door is locked,” answered Prudence. “My sister is not very well, -and does not wish to be disturbed. She is trying to sleep.” - -“But she will see me, my dear Miss Semaphore. I may be able to advise -some course of treatment that will do her good.” - -“Thank you, Miss Lord she is asleep just now, and I do not think would -care to see anyone.” - -“Oh, but I’ll not disturb her. I’ll just have a look at her in order to -reassure you. You must be uneasy about her. I hear she is very ill.” - -As she spoke the medical lady edged up to Prudence. - -“Thank you; you are extremely kind, but I am really not so anxious. She -is not so very ill, she is somewhat better now.” - -“But I hear that you told Mrs. Wilcox after lunch that she was very ill -indeed. This is a sudden change.” - -“No—yes—not _very_ ill. She’ll be better to-morrow.” - -“But I think, my dear Miss Semaphore, you really ought to let me see -her. As you decline to send for a doctor, someone with the requisite -medical knowledge should be in attendance; and, forgive me for saying -so, I do not think you are a very competent nurse. Besides, we owe it to -Mrs. Wilcox to make sure your sister is not threatened with anything -contagious.” - -All this time the resolute medical lady had, step by step, moved -Prudence back, so that they both stood within her room. Her eye caught -the open door. - -“Do let me in,” said the medical lady. “I advise it in your own -interests. Let me have a peep at her, and if, as you say, she is better -and sleeping, I shall be able to reassure Mrs. Wilcox and the others. -Miss Belcher and Mrs. Dumaresq are so terribly afraid of anything -infectious, that at tea they were talking of leaving.” - -“No,” said Prudence, driven into a corner, “you shall not see her, Miss -Lord. She is getting on all right, and does not want to see anyone.” - -“Shan’t I?” suddenly ejaculated the medical lady; and before Prudence -knew what she intended, she made a dash at the open door leading to -Augusta’s room. Prudence, however, was too quick for her. She reached it -first, pulled it to, locked it, for the key fortunately was on her side, -and, putting her back to it, stood flushed, panting, and breathless, -facing Miss Lord. - -“How dare you!” she cried, stung out of her ordinary meekness. “This is -outrageous. Leave my room at once; no one asked you to come here.” - -Miss Lord was hateful to look upon at that moment. If a soft featherbed -had risen up and struck her in the face, she could scarcely have been -more surprised. - -“Ha, ha!” she said menacingly, “so there is a mystery here!” - -“Will you go, please?” - -“Oh yes, I’ll go.” - -She stopped at the outer door. - -“You had better take care, Miss Prudence Semaphore,” with a withering -emphasis on the “Prudence.” “Perhaps I know more than you think. You may -be sorry for this yet.” - -With these vague but direful words she disappeared, leaving Prudence -collapsed, her knees trembling under her, her mind filled with the -gloomiest forebodings, and an undefined terror in her breast as to what -Miss Lord might know. - -How she got through the rest of that dreadful day Prudence never -remembered. She dreaded the ordeal of dinner; but though the medical -lady had evidently told her story, and there was an atmosphere of -disquiet, no direct questions were asked, so the meal passed off better -than she had expected. Still, the marked avoidance of the subject of her -sister’s illness was a new source of uneasiness. - -“I’m sure they think she has cholera or leprosy, or that I am poisoning -her,” mused Prudence dolefully, as she crumbled her bread, and a dull -resentment against Augusta, who had involved her in all this trouble and -deceit, smouldered in her breast. - -There was an added loftiness in. Mrs. Dumaresq’s manner which showed -that Miss Semaphore had somehow incurred her displeasure, while Mrs. -Whitley omitted to pass her the salt and pepper, which, with fussy -officiousness, she presented to everyone else. - -Good-natured Miss Belcher alone, forgetting Toutou and Miss Augusta’s -bad temper, came up to her as the ladies filed out of the dining-room -and said, - -“I hope your sister is better.” - -“Yes, thank you,” replied Prudence faintly. - -“How tired and pale you look. I do believe you are fagged out nursing -her. Do let me help, if I can be of any use to you.” - -“You cannot help me, thank you,” said Prudence, with a sudden impulse to -kiss her. “She does not like anyone else to come near her.” - -“Cross, tyrannical old thing,” thought little Miss Belcher, who pitied -Prudence for the slavery to which she submitted from her sister. - -“Well, cheer up, dear Miss Prudence,” she said sympathetically. “I am -glad she is better. Perhaps she may be all right to-morrow.” - -“I’m sure I hope so,” answered the depressed Prudence, as she made her -way to her own apartment. To-night she had no heart to enter the -drawing-room and angle for a few words of conversation from Major Jones, -round-eyed, stupid Mr. Batley, or gruff Mr. Lorimer, or to join the game -of whist that so often resulted in personalities. - -There was still a painful scene before her. She must tell her sister -that Mrs. Geldheraus had left England, and that there was consequently -no immediate hope of her resuming her proper size. Ever since Augusta -awoke and saw that her sister had returned, she had followed her -movements with anxious and enquiring eyes; but Prudence determined to -give her no information until night, when all the boarders were safely -in bed, and when infantile cries were unlikely to reach them. -Accordingly, having waited until one by one the residents at 37, -Beaconsfield Gardens, had departed to their several rooms, and the house -was wrapped in repose, Prudence stole into her sister’s apartment and -communicated the disastrous intelligence. She had reason to congratulate -herself on the choice of so late an hour, for Augusta, despite prayers -and remonstrances, took it very badly indeed. She sobbed, howled, -kicked, balled her little red fists into her eyes, and in every way that -her circumstances permitted expressed her sorrow, anger, and -disappointment. In vain Prudence implored her to be quiet. Her -overwhelming dismay apparently shut out all other thought, and it was -only when her sister actually put a pillow over her head, to stifle her -cries, that she consented to moderate the expression of her grief. Once -she grew quieter, the tender-hearted Prudence took her up, kissed and -tried to comfort her, walking her up and down the room as if she were in -reality the baby she seemed to be, and continued this soothing progress -until Augusta wept herself to sleep in her arms. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - “GOOD MRS. BROWN.” - - -Early next morning Prudence carefully locked all the doors of her own -room and of her sister’s apartment and went round to the stationer’s to -see if a letter had come for her from X. Y. Z. With much relief she -picked out, from a bundle of others, a missive addressed to P. S., and -proceeded to read it. It was tolerably written and spelled, the paper -was clean, and the communication was signed “Mrs. Brown.” “Mrs. Brown” -agreed to meet Prudence at nine o’clock that evening in the first-class -waiting room at London Bridge Station, and had no doubt they would come -to terms. “She was prepared,” she said, “to take the pretty little dear -and treat it with a mother’s love,” and regretted that she was unable to -make an appointment earlier in the day “on account of family reasons.” - -Perilous as was the delay to Prudence, she was pleased with the letter. -The writer, if not a person of culture, was evidently kind and -respectable, so she resolved to be patient, and bear the strain of the -situation for a few hours longer. - -Her next move was to purchase a feeding bottle, for her previous efforts -to make Augusta swallow milk had been singularly unsuccessful, and she -was filled with uneasiness lest her sister might be starved to death. -She then returned home, fed Augusta, washed her, and dressed her in the -garments provided by Whiteley, and finally proceeded to explain to her -the measures she had taken. - -“I have told you already,” she said, “that if you remained like this it -would be impossible to keep you here. They all look suspiciously at me -downstairs, and I really believe they think you have either got the -plague, or else that I am slowly poisoning you. Mrs. Wilcox spoke to me -again about getting a doctor, and I am afraid that at any moment she may -come with one, and insist on his seeing you. Now, I have our good name -to consider, and I know that if you are not sent away, and sent -speedily, Miss Lord will be capable of breaking in the door. Then, if -you are discovered, we shall simply be lost. As for telling the truth, -they wouldn’t believe me if I swore to it. It is no use your objecting, -Augusta, if you mean that squirm for an objection. You have got yourself -and me into this hole, and the least you can do is to be quiet and help -me to avoid scandal. There you go again. What on earth do you mean? If -you want me to keep you here until Mrs. Geldheraus replies, it simply -can’t be done. She may not write for a week, and every moment I am -running risk of discovery. No, I shall convey you away to-night, -whatever happens. Every question asked about you sends my heart into my -mouth. I have been making arrangements for your comfort. You are to go -to a nice, respectable, married woman, who has no children of her own. -She guarantees you a good home, with the care and affection of a mother. -I have thought out everything. When you are gone, I shall send some of -our boxes to Paddington Station as a blind. I had better stay on here -for a week or a fortnight after you, just to disarm suspicion. By that -time we shall know what Mrs. Geldheraus can do for you, and we must -shape our future actions accordingly. Gracious Heaven! if she says she -can do nothing for you, what will become of us? I suppose I shall have -to pretend you are dead, and rear you somewhere as my adopted daughter! -It is a horrible position to be placed in. I am getting hardened to -telling falsehoods to those people downstairs, and yet I tremble at the -life of deceit I see before me. We shall have to avoid all our -friends—everyone who has known us. If I were even sure you would -gradually grow up as an ordinary baby does, I might look forward to your -speaking in a year or so, and then you might advise me what to do, but -if you remain always dumb, and always a baby——!” - -Overcome by her troubles, and by the long vista of difficulties she saw -opening before her, poor Prudence sobbed aloud. - -There was much to be done, however, so she bathed her eyes, powdered her -flushed cheeks, and proceeded to pack up such indispensable articles as -would be needed by Augusta. She kept to her room as much as possible all -day. At dinner she announced that her sister was better, and that she -herself might possibly spend the evening with some friends, so requested -that the front door might be left unchained, to permit of her letting -herself in with a latch-key that she borrowed from Major Jones. Nobody -made any comment. The general opinion as to her treatment of her poor -suffering sister, was too strong to admit of anything short of the whole -truth being spoken. - -Prudence, congratulating herself therefore on having acted so well, -slipped upstairs and arrayed herself in a black hat, a thick veil, and a -long cloak. Augusta she tucked up warmly in an old shawl, gave her her -feeding bottle, and, having hidden her under the voluminous folds of the -mantle, peeped cautiously out to make sure the coast was clear. Not a -soul was in sight, so Prudence, with as guilty an air as if she were -carrying off Mrs. Wilcox’s silver, crept downstairs, opened the front -door, and closed it softly behind her. - -She scarcely breathed until she was clear of Beaconsfield Gardens, and -so closely did she keep Augusta pressed to her bosom, that when she -perceived what she was doing a spasm of terror shot through her. - -“How quiet she is,” she thought. “Perhaps I have smothered her.” - -A glance reassured her, and she sped onwards. Suddenly her knees seemed -to give way. Advancing towards her, but as yet unconscious of her -presence, was old Major Jones, who had just stepped out of a -tobacconist’s shop, and was smoking a postprandial cigar. Prudence -darted across the road, turned down a side street, and terrified of -meeting someone else who knew her, ran all the way to South Kensington -Station. - -There was no one in the first-class ladies’ waiting-room at London -Bridge Station when Prudence arrived with her charge, except an elderly -person on guard in a battered black bonnet and a woollen crochet -shoulder shawl. It wanted twenty minutes of the time fixed by Mrs. Brown -for the meeting, so Prudence, feeling really weak and ill from -excitement and lack of food, that for two days she had been unable to -taste, gave the female sixpence to hold Augusta, while she partook of a -cup of tea in the refreshment room. - -As she returned, piercing yells were audible long before she reached the -waiting-room, and hastily entering she found her sister purple in the -face, and bent backwards like a bow in the arms of the attendant. - -Her nurse was jogging her roughly up and down, regarding her the while -with an eye of dissatisfaction, not to say of dislike. - -“I’m glad you’ve come back, ma’am,” she said, rising hastily as Prudence -entered, and holding out her charge at arm’s length. “This baby o’ yours -is the very crossest child I ever did see. I thought at first there was -a pin in her clothes may be—it’s a little girl, ain’t it?—but I looked, -and there’s never a one to be found, so it’s temper, so it is—and if I -was you, ma’am, meaning no offence, I’d spank her well, young as she is, -to take the mischief out of her. You can’t begin too soon with that -sort. Just look what she’s done to my face!” - -There certainly was a scratch on the old woman’s nose. - -Prudence took her sister in silence, and tried to soothe her. Augusta, -she knew, was fastidious, and probably disliked being held by the snuffy -old caretaker, yet she could not help considering that under the -circumstances the infliction might have been borne. Still, the baby -continued to yell so that the people looked in to see what was the -matter. She made prolonged efforts to disengage one leg from her lengthy -and cumbersome draperies, till attracted by the frequency of the -movement, Prudence examined her more closely. As she turned up the robe, -Augusta stopped crying. There on her red-mottled limb was a nasty blue -mark, where the irritated caretaker had given her a pinch. - -Under other circumstances the tender-hearted Prudence would have -remonstrated with the woman on her cruelty to a helpless infant. As it -was, she did not dare risk a scene, so took an opportunity to whisper -sympathy to Augusta, and implore her to be patient. - -After many anxious glances at the clock, the hands marked the hour named -by Mrs. Brown, and, at the moment, a bustling, fresh-complexioned woman -of about five-and-fifty, stout and respectably dressed, hurried into the -room, and, first casting a comprehensive glance around, walked over to -Prudence, and said, - -“Excuse me, ma’am, but are you here with reference to a child?” - -“Are you Mrs. Brown?” asked Prudence, favourably impressed by her -appearance of cleanliness and her businesslike manner. - -“Yes, ma’am, I ham Mrs. Brown, otherwise X. Y. Z.—‘good Mrs. Brown,’ -they calls me down our wy; and you, ma’am, I suppose are P. S.?” - -“Yes,” said Prudence faintly. - -“And this is the dear baby? Pitty ickle sing!” said Mrs. Brown, making a -dab with a motherly forefinger at Augusta’s cheek. Augusta looked at her -very hard, and Prudence could not help hoping that she was as favourably -impressed as herself. - -“Yes,” she said, “this is the baby I wish you to take charge of, and on -whom I hope you will bestow motherly care.” - -“That, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Brown, “you may rest assured on. How old is -the little dear?” - -Prudence was all confusion. - -“I really don’t know,” she faltered. “A few years—I mean a few months -old—about six weeks, perhaps.” - -“Is the baby your own, ma’am?” enquired Mrs. Brown in a tone of -surprise. - -“Oh, dear, no!” cried Prudence aghast. “It is not my child at all. As a -matter of fact, I am not married.” - -“Indeed! You’ll excuse me asking the question, ma’am; but in a matter of -business like this you understand one has to be particular, with such a -fine, comfortable, ’appy ’ome as I’ve to offer too; and might I enquire -exactly what relation the pretty dear is to you? All communications, -ma’am, are treated in strict confidence.” - -“She is my sister.” - -“Your sister!” gasped Mrs. Brown, looking Prudence up and down. “Oh! -your _sister’s_. And now, ma’am, excuse my asking, but is your sister a -married lady?” - -“Of course not,” said Prudence, adding with a sickly smile, “I think you -might be pretty sure of that?” - -“_Of course not!_” repeated Mrs. Brown under her breath in a tone of -deep astonishment. “_Of course_ not!” adding to herself, happily unheard -by Prudence, “well, of all the braigen! and she lookin’ so quiet too.” - -“Well, ma’am,” she continued aloud, “under them circumstances of course -you understand my terms is according.” - -“According to what?” - -“To them circumstances, ma’am.” - -“They are unusual,” admitted Prudence, “and I am quite prepared to -remunerate you amply for any trouble you take with this dear child.” - -“That child, ma’am, though I say it, is a fortunate child in comin’ to -one as’ll give her—it’s a little girl, isn’t it?—as’ll give her a -mother’s care and love; and take her I can’t, ma’am, for less than a -premium of fifty pounds down an’ a weekly payment of one pound.” - -“It seems a good deal for a baby.” - -“No, ma’am, it’s not a good deal, it’s cheap, too cheap maybe, but I’ve -my nater’l feelings, an’ I’ve took to the child, so I’m makin’ terms for -you an’ your sister as I wouldn’t for another lydy in a similar case.” - -“Well, unfortunately,” said Prudence timidly, “I did not expect to have -to pay so much, and only brought a smaller sum with me.” - -“How much?” asked good Mrs. Brown briefly. - -“Twenty pounds,” said Prudence. “You see I never had to—was concerned -in—I mean I never before had anything to do with babies, at least in -this way, and I thought—that is to say, twenty pounds seemed a good -deal, especially as I am to make you regular weekly payments as well.” - -“Twenty pounds!” shrieked Mrs. Brown. “Is it twenty pounds for a -mother’s care and love and dooty, and a comfortable ’ome an’ no -unpleasant questions asked?” - -“Of course not, of course not,” said Prudence hastily. “I see now it was -too little, but how am I to manage about the matter, as I have not got -fifty pounds here?” - -Mrs. Brown looked at her keenly. “I’ll trust you, ma’am,” she said, “for -I’m that soft-’earted, an’ I’ve took to the child. Pay me the twenty -down, an’ send me thirty in Bank of England notes—none o’ yer -cheques—within twenty-four hours, and I’ll take the little darling -away.” - -“Very well,” said Prudence relieved. “I will do as you say; but oh! Mrs. -Brown, be sure you take every care of her, let her want for nothing;” -and two big tears stood in the good-natured creature’s eyes. - -“Madam,” answered Mrs. Brown, “it’s a lucky child as comes to me; and -now will you please give me your name and address, and just write a -promise to pay on this ’ere bit of paper, and hand me over the twenty -pounds and I’ll give you a receipt; and give me the byby, for my train -is about due, and you’ve got my name and address, and I expects to be -notified whenever you’re a coming to see the byby, and I never allows as -payments to be more than a week in arrears, or I brings back the child.” - -Prudence was rather bewildered by Mrs. Brown’s last lengthy and rapid -speech, “I never allows no payments to be more than a week in arrears.” - -What could she mean by that? It really sounded as if she were familiar -with transactions of the kind, but surely no respectable married woman, -so nice in appearance too, even though her grammar was not faultless, -would need more than one child to adopt; so, telling herself she had -misunderstood, Prudence paid down the twenty pounds, kissed Augusta, saw -Mrs. Brown and that infant into the train, and then relieved, yet with -many cares on her mind, made her way back to Beaconsfield Gardens. - -Meantime Mrs. Brown, who watched her standing on the platform until the -train moved out of the station, began to feel she had made a bad -bargain. - -“I was a bloomin’ idiot not to arsk thirty bob,” she muttered, “an’ a -’undred down. She’s that soft she’d ’ave given it. There! stow it, you -brat!” she added with sudden fury, turning to Augusta, who had set up a -dismal wail. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - THE MEDICAL LADY BAFFLED. - - -No. 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, South Kensington, was in a ferment of -excitement. Something had happened. The boarders did not quite know -what, but there was in the air that electrical unrest that spreads so -rapidly from one individual to another. - -The mystery of Miss Semaphore’s illness was under discussion. What ailed -her? She had eaten nothing for two days. Was she really better? Was she -worse? Why this secrecy and embarrassment on the part of the usually -garrulous and impulsive Prudence? Why was no doctor called in? Why, why, -why, in a thousand forms, was the favourite interrogative pronoun on the -lips of the ladies and gentlemen as they sat round the fire after dinner -and discussed something more interesting to them than the _Daily -Telegraph_, that oracle beloved of boarding-houses. - -When tea was served, the maid sent up by Mrs. Wilcox to remind Prudence -that it was waiting in the drawing-room, knocked long and vainly at her -door, and at last, turning the handle, discovered that the apartment was -empty. Knocking at Augusta’s door likewise had no result, and the girl -came down to say she thought Miss Prudence Semaphore must have gone out -already. - -This was confirmed by Major Jones, who remembered seeing someone like -her turn down Tate Street when on his way home. - -Where had she gone to? All the ladies at her table were anxious to know, -but they asked in vain. The medical woman saw that her opportunity had -come. - -“I shall take advantage of her absence,” she said resolutely, “to visit -that poor, suffering sister of hers, whom I consider she has treated -shamefully.” - -There was a murmur of applause at this noble resolution, and the medical -woman, having hastily swallowed her tea, rose from table and made her -way upstairs. Mrs. Whitley followed at a convenient distance. She was -curious, but not daring. The medical woman knocked at the door of Miss -Augusta’s room, and listened for a reply. There was none. She repeated -the knock, and then tried the handle; the door was locked from the -inside, and the key, sticking in it, prevented anything like a -satisfactory view of the interior. - -“My dear Miss Semaphore, it is only me,” she murmured ungrammatically; -“I have come to enquire for you. May I not come in?” - -Miss Semaphore naturally did not answer. The medical woman stood -straight up and reflected for half-a-second. - -“It is my duty,” she said aloud, and, thus braced to the task, marched -to the door of Prudence’s room, opened it, passed in, and entered the -sleeping apartment of the elder Miss Semaphore. Mrs. Whitley by this -time had come forward, and paused as she passed the threshold. The -medical woman was just emerging with a bewildered face, when she saw -her, and exclaimed, - -“She has gone!” - -“Gone!” ejaculated Mrs. Whitley. - -“Yes, gone! There is no one there! The room is empty!” - -“What an ex-tra-or-dinary thing! Why where on earth can she have gone -to, and at this time of night too?” - -“There is some mystery here,” said the medical woman solemnly. “All is -not right, but I’ll see this matter out, or my name is not Jane Lord.” - -Downstairs went Mrs. Whitley and “Jane Lord” to tell the news. There was -an excited chorus of enquiries to a duet of replies. - -Why and how had Prudence Semaphore spirited away her sick sister? What -had happened? She had certainly told Mrs. Wilcox that Miss Augusta would -go for change of air, but who could imagine her sneaking off in the -evening without luggage or farewell? There was something behind it, but -what? - -“It sounds just like one of those horrid police cases one reads in the -papers,” said Mrs. Dumaresq; “I do hope the poor creature has not been -murdered and the body conveyed away.” - -“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Whitley, “surely you don’t think her -sister—” - -“I don’t think anything,” said Mrs. Dumaresq with dignity; “but I must -say Miss Prudence Semaphore’s manner has more than once struck me as -peculiar.” - -Mrs. Whitley lowered her voice to an awe-stricken whisper. - -“Then you think, perhaps, she has gone mad and murdered her sister? How -awful! The police should be told at once, they really should.” - -“My dear Mrs. Whitley, do not be so hasty. Whatever my suspicions may -be, I have not formulated them. In diplomacy one learns never to jump to -conclusions; but I confess this seems to me to be a very mysterious and -unpleasant affair. It makes me regret ever having come to a -boarding-house, in spite of the advice of my dearest friend, the Duchess -of Middlesex. ‘Don’t go to any such place, Mimi,’ she said. She always -calls me ‘Mimi.’ ‘You never can tell who you may meet or what may -happen, and it is so very unpleasant to be mixed up with persons with -whom one cannot associate.’ Didn’t she, Angelo?” - -Mr. Dumaresq, as usual, confirmed his wife’s statement. - -“But do you really think there is something wrong—that a crime has been -committed?” asked the little group of ladies one of the other. - -“I, for one, should not be surprised,” said the medical woman boldly; -“but it is well not to speak till one is certain, and of course I may be -mistaken.” - -“But did you—did you notice anything wrong in the room just now, any -signs of a struggle, or—or poison of any kind, or a weapon?” asked Mrs. -Whitley. “I suppose you looked?” - -“Frankly,” said the medical woman, “I did not; I was so surprised and -taken aback when I found she was not there, that I just looked at -nothing at all except the bed. That had been slept in apparently, and I -think the room was rather untidy, but I did not stay a moment.’ - -“Don’t you think, ladies,” said Mrs. Whitley, in a low voice, “that it -would be well for Miss Lord and myself to run upstairs now and -thoroughly investigate the apartment?” - -The others agreed; so the medical lady and her satellite made their way -to Miss Semaphore’s room, and conscientiously poked into every corner. -They found nothing except a twist of Miss Augusta’s false hair, and a -baby’s knitted boot. This last the medical woman picked up and held out. - -“Where did this come from, I wonder,” said she; “I suppose one of them -made it for some charity.” - -“No doubt,” said Mrs. Whitley; and having fruitlessly investigated -everything that had been left unlocked, and shaken every door, box, or -wardrobe that was securely fastened, they turned to make their way to -the morning room, a little disappointed at their fruitless search. - -Unfortunately, just as they were passing through, Prudence returned -home, and meeting them on the threshold, at once divined that they had -been investigating in her absence. They noted her frightened face, and -the look of relief that crossed it at the recollection that after all -there was nothing to find. The medical lady thought it best to carry off -their proceedings with a high hand. - -“Dear, dear!” she said, laughing; “don’t look so startled, Miss -Semaphore. We thought that as we saw or heard nothing of you at tea, we -had better see you or your sister, and enquire if we could be of use to -her in your absence; but you were both out.” - -“Yes,” said Prudence, breathlessly, “we were both out; and I must say, -Miss Lord, I consider it a great liberty for you and Mrs. Whitley to -have entered my room and my sister’s under the circumstances.” - -“Highty toity,” responded the medical woman, “we were trying to do our -duty by your unfortunate sister, whom you left without proper medical -attendance during her illness, and have apparently taken out of her sick -bed this night at the risk of her life, and conveyed away without the -smallest necessary precaution.” - -Terrible is the wrath of the sheep. Prudence stood at bay in a towering -rage. - -“Allow me to tell you, madam,” she said, “that you know nothing at all -about it. My sister is perfectly well, never better in her life, and I -won’t be dictated to by you, or Mrs. Whitley either, as to any course of -action I think fit to take.” - -“Well, I’m sure,” gasped the medical woman, “this is what one gets for -trying to be kind to some people. Come away, my dear Mrs. Whitley, and -leave this—person. Far from thanking us for our thoughtfulness to her -sister and herself, she only insults us. Of course if poor Miss Augusta -dies from want of proper care, we shall not be to blame,” and, with much -dignity, the two ladies swept downstairs, to tell the result of their -mission. - -That something was horribly wrong, all the boarders were agreed, but as -to what that something was, they differed. Was Miss Augusta Semaphore -living or dead? If living, what was the nature of the mysterious disease -with which she was afflicted that necessitated such prompt and secret -action on the part of her easy-going sister? - -Mrs. Whitley, as one who had visited her room, was terrified at this -view of the case, and went into strong hysterics at the idea of having -perhaps contracted some terrible malady during her investigations. She -was not to be calmed until both she and the medical woman, by the advice -of the latter, went through a course of thorough fumigation and -disinfection. - -Where was Augusta now? That was another interesting theme for -speculation. Somewhere near, apparently, since Major Jones had seen -Prudence by herself in Tate Street shortly after dinner. Nothing else -was talked of all day, but as Prudence came down calmly to meals, -seemingly happier and more composed than she had been for some days, -excitement began to die down. Perhaps there was nothing in it after all. -Augusta was queer; she might have insisted in going off in the night -like that. Anyhow, nothing much could be wrong, or Prudence would never -look so cheerful. As for her having gone mad, or murdered her sister, -even Mrs. Whitley now laughed at the idea; but the medical woman still -clung to her belief that all was not right. - -Poor, tired Prudence, weary of scheming, and lying, and being badgered, -felt the change and rejoiced. If they only would question her no more, -how happy she might be! A fortnight would soon pass, and by that time, -all suspicion being averted, she might safely give notice and join her -sister. Meantime, to leave no room for speculation as to her movements, -she went out very little, appeared at every meal, and told old Mrs. -Belcher, the most sympathetic of the boarders, who immediately spread -the story, that her sister had gone to the seaside for a change, and -that if she did not speedily improve in health, she, Prudence, would -soon join her there. - -All suspicions were now apparently tranquillized, and Prudence, having -despatched by the first post a cheque for £30 to good Mrs. Brown, felt -sufficiently calm to await events. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. - - -The two following days passed peacefully over. Prudence told her -carefully-concocted story to Mrs. Wilcox, and said she would probably -follow her sister in a fortnight. She despatched a great box, avowedly -for the use of Augusta, to Paddington Station, and left it at the -cloak-room to be kept till called for. She took every precaution that -suggested itself to her, and even contemplated announcing at table the -receipt of a letter from her sister declaring she was enjoying the fine -sea air. - -In fact, she felt she was beginning to lie with an _aplomb_ that at once -frightened and delighted her, but was accompanied by twinges of -conscience. Many tears she shed in secret over the deception she was -forced to practise. - -The interest and excitement about Miss Semaphore had already abated -somewhat. Her room had been turned out, cleaned, and made ready for a -new boarder, and Prudence, who had sent on the additional thirty pounds -to good Mrs. Brown, was congratulating herself on having acted with -great promptitude, foresight, and caution, under trying and exceptional -circumstances. - -Her main idea now was to hear from the widow of the explorer whose fatal -Water of Youth had proved the direful spring of all her woes. Night and -day she considered the subject. Was there an antidote? If not, would her -sister ever grow up? If she did grow up, would she grow up normally? Had -she really, as Prudence thought, preserved her memory and understanding? -Was she to be treated exactly like an ordinary baby? and, if not, in -what respects should a difference be made? Should she be sent to school -later on? Would her intelligence grow or lessen? All these racking -questions, to which she could give no answer, tormented the younger Miss -Semaphore continually. - -When, sooner than she had ventured to hope, she found a letter lying on -the hall-table addressed to her, in a foreign handwriting, and bearing -the Paris post-mark, the poor lady was so overcome between fear and hope -that she scarcely had courage to open it. With tottering limbs, she made -her way upstairs, locked her door, and sat down to read the most -important missive she had ever received. - -Mrs. Geldheraus expressed herself shocked and surprised at the sad story -unfolded by Miss Prudence Semaphore, but, unfortunately, was not very -helpful. She had never before heard of anyone taking too much of the -Water of Youth, and knew of no method of counteracting its effects. - -“I explained to your sister,” she said, “that a tablespoonful took about -ten years off one’s age. Thus a woman of forty, taking two -tablespoonfuls, would, in effect, be twenty. After that, a tea-spoonful -every two years, would keep her at twenty as long as the Water lasted. -She seemed quite to understand my directions. As such a case as you -describe has never entered into my experience, I fear, dear madam, I can -only recommend you to be patient under these distressing circumstances. -I can give you no idea of how long the effects will last. Usually, the -greater the quantity required in the first instance, the sooner the dose -must be repeated, as the acquired youth wears off with a rapidity in -proportion to one’s actual age. Whether this, however, will be the case -with your sister, I cannot say. No one who has hitherto tried the Water -has returned to infancy, so your sister’s is a very exceptional and -awkward position, especially, as you tell me, you are living at a -boarding-house. You may be thankful that your sister did not take a -little more, or she would probably have vanished for ever, and your -circumstances would be even more painful than they are. It is most -probable that she retains her adult memory and understanding unimpaired, -remaining a woman in mind though not in body. I regret, dear madam, that -I cannot be more helpful, and am, yours faithfully, - - SOPHIE GELDHERAUS.” - -As she concluded, Prudence broke down utterly, and, throwing herself on -her bed, gave way to a bitter outburst of weeping. There was nothing for -it now but to let things take their course, to accept all the annoyance, -deception, seclusion, and suspicion involved in so anomalous, so -unprecedented a situation. She saw nothing before her but a life spent -in avoiding acquaintances, in evading enquiry—the life of a fugitive, -dogged by a blameless past. - -“It is horrible, horrible!” she wailed. “If it were anything else, I -think I could bear it, but this is so incredible, so unheard of. How am -I to manage about our business matters? Will Mr. Carson believe me if I -tell him the truth? Will he ever credit that the infant I show him is -Augusta?” (Mr. Carson was the solicitor who managed the affairs of the -Misses Semaphore.) “What about signing deeds and so forth? Then, if I -pretend she has died, he will want to come to the funeral, or see the -death certificate, or take out probate, or something of that kind that -will involve enquiry. Oh! what, what am I to do?” - -At last, exhausted by weeping, Miss Prudence lay still, and stared with -sodden eyes at the flies dancing on the ceiling. The one agreeable -object of her reflections was that at least she had got Augusta safely -away, and placed her in hands that were both kind and safe. - -A longing to see her sister came over her. Though Augusta was dumb and -helpless, it would at least be some consolation to talk to her, to pour -out her woes. - -To a woman of the stamp of Prudence, the necessity for secretiveness, -for independent or uncounselled action, is terrible. She wanted someone -to advise her, someone to lean on, and little consolation as she could -expect from communing with Augusta, it would at least be a relief to say -all that was in her mind. - -Accordingly she rose, wrote a few lines to “good Mrs. Brown,” announcing -her intention of calling at Plummer’s Cottages the following afternoon, -and having donned a thick veil to conceal her distorted features, -proceeded to post the note. - -The walk did her good. A fresh wind was blowing, that cooled the hot -cheeks of the troubled lady. In the air was something of rest that -soothed her, and it was in a more equable frame of mind that she -returned home. - -At the door of 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, she became conscious that -something unusual was agitating the inmates. A loud, angry voice reached -her, muffled by intervening doors—a voice she seemed to recognise; and -when, in answer to her ring, Müller opened the door, his face was -flushed and his manner agitated. - -“Oh, blease,” he gasped, when he saw her, “I am glat that you, matam, -hafe come. Here it is a voman asking you to see, and ven I say you are -not _zu Haus_, she _schimpf_ and cry, and vill not go avay.” - -Prudence’s heart stopped beating, and she caught the door-post to save -herself from falling. - -“Where is she, Müller?” she gasped faintly. - -“I did show her into the morning room,” said Müller, “ven she say that -avay she vill not go; but therein she vill not remain, but valk into the -hall and calls for you.” - -Before he could say any more, there appeared before the shocked eyes of -Prudence a vision of good Mrs. Brown, flushed, dishevelled, her bonnet -to one side. With unsteady gait, she lurched down the hall, and -confronted the trembling lady. - -“So you’ve come at larst,” she said; “nice way to keep a ’spectable -woman awytin for you. S’pose I’ve nothin’ better to do than sitting -’ere?” - -“What do you want with me, Mrs. Brown?” asked Prudence, in an agitated -voice. - -“Wot d’ I want with you? Well, I likes that. Wot do I want, she sez! I -want to know wot d’ you mean by sending a ’spectable married woman for -the keep of that there byby a cheque as she can’t get no money for? Eh? -Tell me that? A bloomin’ shame, I calls it; but you just fork out that -thirty pounds as you howe me, or I’ll ’ave the law of you,” said good -Mrs. Brown, loudly but indistinctly. - -Prudence was miserably conscious that two or three heads were peering -over the balustrade from the landing above. - -“Will you come in here, please,” she said as firmly as she could, “and -tell me exactly what is the matter?” - -“The matter?” queried Mrs. Brown, as she lurched against her. “Matter -enough! What did you go for to send me a cheque at all, wen I told you I -wouldn’t ’ave no cheques?” - -By this Prudence had got her into the morning room, deserted, for a -wonder, and closed the door. - -“Now,” she said tremblingly, “what is all this about, and what do you -mean by coming here and making such a noise? I am sorry I sent you a -cheque, but I quite forgot you told me not to, and it is all right; -there is nothing wrong with it.” - -“Nothin’ wrong! Wy wot d’ you take me for, a-sendin’ me a cheque as no -one ’ll change?” said Mrs. Brown. “Nice conduck of a female as calls -’erself a lydy, a-sending of a pore woman to one public hafter another, -an’ not one o’ the lot ’ll change the thing!” - -“Let me see it,” said Prudence, bewildered. - -Mrs. Brown glared rather unsteadily at the speaker for a minute, and -then fumbled in her bag. After many futile dives, she at last turned out -the contents on the table. There, amidst papers, a thimble, sixpence in -coppers, some pawn tickets, a half-crown, a reel of cotton, a stump of -blue pencil, and various other odds and ends, was the letter of -Prudence, with her cheque, now very crumpled and dirty, protruding. - -“Calls erself a lydy,” pursued good Mrs. Brown, “an’ sends me that!” -Here she banged the cheque on the table. - -Prudence, from force of habit, had crossed the cheque and marked it “not -negotiable,” as the family solicitor, when first she had the handling of -money, had instructed her always to do. - -“I am sorry,” she said, “the cheque is crossed, and that is why they -would not change it. It should be passed through a bank. If you will -wait here quietly for a moment, I will write you another.” - -Good Mrs. Brown at first seemed indisposed to allow Prudence to leave -the room at all. “Give me my money,” she said; “I don’t want none o’ -your cheques. Money down’s the thing for me!” - -A vast amount of explanation was required before she seemed to grasp the -sense of what the unhappy lady was saying. Then she suddenly sat down on -a chair and burst into tears, much to Miss Semaphore’s alarm and -distress. - -“You won’t try to starve the blessed hinfant,” she said, “and rob a pore -woman of ’er ’ard earned money?” - -Prudence earnestly assured her she would not, that nothing was farther -from her intentions. She apologised again and again about the unlucky -cheque, and implored her unexpected visitor to be calm, to be patient -for one moment while she ran upstairs to fetch her cheque book. - -Mrs. Brown, however, followed her to the door, and protested huskily -against the younger Miss Semaphore’s “giving” her “the slip.” - -As poor Prudence escaped, she had the misery of seeing the heads of Mrs. -Whitley, the medical woman, and even of the stately Mrs. Dumaresq -herself, hastily withdrawn from over the balustrade on the first -landing. Every minute seemed an hour until a fresh cheque was made out, -and good Mrs. Brown, grasping it tightly in one hand, had gone off to -negociate it after a deal of explanation. Prudence felt quite sick with -agitation and apprehension. - -“I really almost believe,” she said to herself, “I really am inclined to -think that Mrs. Brown must have been drinking.” - -A dreadful uneasiness as to how Augusta might be faring weighed heavy on -her heart. - -“I will certainly go to-morrow and see the place,” she resolved, “and if -I do not like it, I’ll take Augusta away.” - -Her spirits drooped at the prospect of an impending conflict with good -Mrs. Brown, for even if her thoughts wronged the respectable woman, that -afternoon’s experience showed that the lady in question had another side -to her character besides that observed by Prudence at London Bridge -Station. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - PRUDENCE CALLS AT PLUMMER’S COTTAGES. - - -Next morning Prudence, after a restless night, was up betimes. Never in -the past had the placid, good-natured spinster known sleeplessness, -except in a very modified form. Since Augusta’s misfortune, however, -that was changed. She thought more than she ever had thought in her -life, and constant anxiety was making her face look drawn and worn. Her -brief triumph at having got her sister safely out of the house had -vanished with the unexpected and unwelcome visit of “good Mrs. Brown.” - -Wearily tossing on her bed, waiting for the dawn, she pictured that -mistress of a comfortable home, pursuing her with threats; while babies, -cheques, Mrs. Dumaresq, and the medical lady whirled wildly past in a -waking dream. - -At four, she rose, and beguiled the weary hours until the breakfast bell -rang, by watching the gardener sharpening his scythe to cut the grass, -and observing the sleepy maids unfastening the shutters of the opposite -houses, shaking mats, and washing the steps. She wished to go then and -there in search of her sister, her anxiety and impatience grew every -minute, and she fretted, as we all have done, at the restrictions that -prevent one paying a casual call at six in the morning, and the laziness -that fails to enforce the running of trains the twenty-four hours -through. - -Not even a cab could she see. Many a time had she opened her window, -looked out, closed it again, taken a novel, put it by, looked at her -watch, walked up and down, re-arranged her hair, fidgeted, opened her -door, listened if anyone was moving, shut it and sat down, before the -welcome boom of the gong, struck by Müller’s stout arm, announced the -first meal of the day. - -Poor Miss Prudence made but a dismal pretence at eating. She knew that -her queer visitor of the previous evening was remembered and discussed, -and she felt that every morsel of bread would choke her. She crumbled a -slice on her plate, drank a cup of tea, and then rose hastily from -table. Consciousness of terrible guilt could scarcely have made her more -miserable than she, good innocent creature, was at the moment. - -Guilty people usually have a certain hardness of nature that makes them -indifferent to the opinion of others, while Prudence, with all her woes -upon her head, was a timid, unsheltered, soft-hearted body, to whom an -angry or contemptuous glance was as bad as a blow. - -By half-past nine she had donned a black bonnet and mantle, and had left -the house, carrying in her hand an envelope on which she had written -“good Mrs. Brown’s” address. She hailed a passing omnibus that was going -in the direction, and, still pursued by her sombre thoughts, tried to -imagine what she should do with Augusta if, as she feared, Mrs. Brown’s -house was not the happy home she had anticipated. - -Plummer’s Cottages were not easy to find. No one knew where they, were; -but then every civilian of whom one asks the way in London is sure to be -a stranger, so Prudence applied to a stalwart policeman. - -“If I was you, mum, I shouldn’t wenture,” he said, “they’re a low lot -down there.” - -“But I must,” urged Prudence nervously. - -“Well, if you must, take the fourth to the right, and then the second to -the left, and the first to the right again. That’s Barker’s Rents. You -walks straight past the Model Dwellings, which models they are, and -you’ll find Plummer’s Cottages.” - -Prudence, having laboriously counted her streets, followed his -directions. The second turn to the left brought her into a dingy byway, -and the first to the right again into a slum. Barker’s Rents towered up -to the sky, and at the door of the Model Dwellings a group of slatternly -women were discussing personal topics with much freedom, and a running -accompaniment of “sez he,” “sez I,” and “sez she.” - -No. 42 was an inconspicuous cottage, with a battered green door, reached -by a single step. Prudence knocked at it with the handle of her umbrella -without any response. She repeated the summons, but in vain, and, having -shaken the door, which resisted her efforts to open it, she endeavoured -to peep through the dingy window. Her proceedings excited considerable -interest amongst the ladies standing at the Model Dwellings, as indeed -amongst all the residents in the neighbourhood, who came out by twos and -threes until at last, Prudence, turning round, was surprised and alarmed -to find herself the centre of an unwashed and, to her eyes, menacing -crowd. - -“’Tis no good your rapping,” said a burly woman, pushing her way -through. “There ain’t no one there. The ’ouse is empty.” - -“Empty!” ejaculated Prudence. “Since when?” - -“They cleared out last night like winking.” - -“Oh, but there must be some mistake. I am looking for a Mrs. Brown.” - -“You bet!” said the woman, addressing the crowd, “she’s one o’ them. -Nice lot she must be to ’and ’er own flesh an’ blood hover to Sal -Brown.” - -The crowd signified approval of this view by a series of hoots and cat -calls. - -“But I don’t know what you mean,” cried the frightened and bewildered -Prudence, “I want to find a Mrs. Brown, who told me her address was 42, -Plummer’s Cottages, and now that I come here, I find the place shut up -and you say the woman is gone. Can anyone tell me where to find her?” - -“I’ll tell ye fast enough,” said the burly woman. “She’s in the lock-up, -Sal Brown is; she’s to be brought up before the beak to-day on a drunk -and disorderly.” - -“But good gracious! my sister! Where——where is the child she was taking -care of?” - -“Oh! so you _are_ one o’ them. A nice ’uzzy you must be to give an -innercent byby hover to Sal. Blest if you’ll find it alive, an’ no doubt -that’s wot you wants. The perlice made a swoop on the lot last night, -an’ they say the Sercierty for the Prewention o’ Cruelty to Children’s -carted ’em off somewhere. I wish you just saw ’em, so I do.” - -“Them? What do you mean by them?” - -“As if yer didn’t know! Wy, the hinfants to be sure. The Sercierty took -the whole fifteen o’ them, an’ now they’re going to try to find the -parients. They’ll be glad to ’ear of you. They’ll ’ave somethink to say -t’ you wen they sees yer.” - -“Fifteen infants! Why what do you mean? I only know of one child that -was given over to Mrs. Brown to take care of. She wanted to adopt it. -She said she was a respectable married woman, and would give it a -comfortable home.” - -A burst of jeering laughter greeted this. - -“Precious comfortable,” said a thin woman, “with Sal on the booze! Wy -d’you mean to tell us you didn’t know she wer a reglar wrong un?” - -“A wrong one?” - -“Yes, farmed kids and that?” - -“I don’t know what you mean,” protested Prudence tearfully. - -“Well, y’are a deep ’un, or a softy, blest if I know which, not t’ve -found all about ’er from the start, if yer not lyin’, as is most -likely.” - -“But what am I to do?” - -“Dunno. You go ’long to the perlice station, an’ p’raps the bobbies’ll -tell you.” - -“Where is it?” asked Prudence wearily. - -Several of the women pointed out the direction, and followed by a little -procession of interested but shock-headed observers, who made -unfavourable comments on her manners, morals, and appearance, the -younger Miss Semaphore took her way, for the first time in her life, to -the police station, and made tearful enquiries of a constable at the -door. - -“Step this way, ma’am,” said he. - -While the disappointed crowd hung about, and, foreseeing no startling or -tragic _dénouement_, gradually melted away, Prudence was ushered into -the presence of a severe official seated at a table covered with neatly -docketed papers. - -The constable, a fresh-coloured young fellow from the country, saluted. - -“Please, sir, this person’s called about the Plummer’s Cottages Baby -Farming Case. Says she’s mother to one of the hinfants.” - -“Sister,” corrected Miss Semaphore timidly. “I am not a married lady, my -good man.” - -“Will you kindly state your business,” said the inspector, after an -awful pause, during which he took no notice of the presence of Prudence, -but went on writing stolidly. - -Prudence told how a few days ago she had entrusted her sister to the -care of a woman named Brown, and had paid her two sums of twenty and -thirty pounds respectively. That now she found the woman had left the -address given to her, that the house was shut up, and, having been told -Mrs. Brown was under arrest, she had come to the station to make -enquiries and to discover, if possible, the whereabouts of her sister. -The narrative was told in broken words interrupted by many sighs and -tears. - -Inspector Smith had made a reputation in connection with baby farming -cases, and he looked on this Plummer’s Cottages business as one of the -worst transactions of the kind he had ever come across. Sal Brown he -considered less guilty than the wicked and unnatural parents who had -delivered over their offsprings to her. What he inwardly designated the -“crocodile tears” of Prudence did not move him a whit, and he surveyed -her with manifest disfavour. She might of course be a dupe, but he -inclined to believe her a criminal. - -“Do you say that the child in question is your sister?” - -“Yes.” - -“But did you not tell the constable just now that you were her mother?” - -“Oh dear no! He misunderstood me. I only said I had come to enquire -about a child.” - -“But you must be aware that all the children found at the woman’s house -were extremely young—infants in fact. None of them were over two years -of age.” - -“My sister is”—Prudence hesitated—“extremely young.” - -“Well,” said the Inspector doubtfully, “of course I cannot compel you to -speak the truth. They’ll do that elsewhere. The babies are mostly in a -terrible way, starved, dirty, and diseased. We are trying to trace their -parents, as several names and addresses were found in the possession of -Brown, and you would probably have been subpœnæd to give evidence at her -trial. Meantime the children have been taken to the workhouse.” - -What all this portended Prudence scarcely grasped. One fact, and one -fact alone, stood out luridly before her. Augusta was in the workhouse. - -“Oh!” she gasped in dismay, “in the workhouse! My sister in the -workhouse. Where is it? Let me go at once. I must take her away.” - -“I think you had better not attempt to do anything of the kind,” said -the Inspector stiffly. “The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to -Children has taken the matter up, and you’ll hear more of it later. You -had better just leave the child alone. She is in good hands now anyway, -very different from those you put her into. My advice to you is to keep -quiet. You’ll see her all right later on, and may be you’ll have to tell -your share in the case.” - -“My share in the case is easily told,” said poor Prudence. “As I -explained to you already, I thought I was placing her in a good home, -with a kind, respectable woman, but it seems I was mistaken.” - -If anyone has formed an opinion that another is wily, the simplest -speech or action tends to confirm it. In the heart-moving accents of -Prudence, Inspector Smith heard only duplicity. In her open, though -tear-stained, countenance he read nothing but low cunning. - -“It’s quite wonderful,” he said coldly, “to see how easy it is to -deceive people when it is to their interests to be deceived; they ask no -questions and they are told no lies, and a troublesome baby is got rid -of, that’s how it is.” - -“Well, I did want to get rid of her for a little time,” admitted -Prudence, with the characteristic foolish candour that so often covers -the innocent with suspicion, “because it was not convenient to have her -where I live. If you knew the circumstances, sir, you would feel for me. -They are very peculiar and extraordinary, but indeed I asked questions -and Mrs. Brown told me lies.” - -The Inspector looked at her under his shaggy brows, he did not quite -know what to make of her simplicity. She was either an admirable actress -or else—she seemed really white and ill and frightened, but with that -kind of woman one never knew how much was “fake.” - -“Will you please give me your full name and address,” he said. - -“Prudence Elizabeth Semaphore, 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, South -Kensington.” - -“Condition?” - -“Sir.” - -“Condition, married or single?” - -“I am unmarried, as you must have heard me say to the constable.” - -“Unmarried, hem. Age?” - -“Age?” - -“Yes, age. How old are you?” - -“That, sir,” said Prudence with dignity, “is no concern of yours; I -decline to answer.” - -“Well,” said the Inspector grimly, “I won’t press the question. Perhaps -you may answer it later. That’ll do,” and with a nod he dismissed her. - -“But the workhouse where my sister is, where is it? How can I get -there?” - -“She is at St. Mark’s Workhouse, but you had better leave her alone.” - -“Would you mind,” said Prudence pleadingly, “writing down the name and -the name of the street where it is situated? I must go there at once.” - -“Oh, you can remember well enough,” said the Inspector rather gruffly. -“St. Mark’s Workhouse, Bush Street.” - -With this Prudence had to be content. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - MRS. DUMARESQ IN AN UNDIPLOMATIC CIRCLE. - - -When Prudence found herself in the street, she looked in a bewildered -fashion from right to left, not knowing which way to turn. The -good-natured young constable pointed out the direction of the workhouse, -telling her it was quite near, and thither she bent her steps. Knowing -nothing of the intricacies of the neighbourhood, she walked some -considerable way before realising that she was lost, and that her best -plan was to take a cab. Cabs, however, were few about there, and she -discovered one with difficulty. As she drove towards the workhouse she -had leisure to reflect on the bewildering incidents of the morning, and -speculate on the condition of mind and body in which she would probably -find Augusta. - -“The poor dear,” she thought, “what she must have gone through! Oh! what -a misfortune to have come across that terrible woman. And she looked so -nice, so clean, so respectable. Thank Heaven, Augusta was not with her -very long.” She went over in her mind her conversation with the -Inspector. - -“What a disagreeable man! He seemed quite to doubt my word that Augusta -was my sister. Perhaps I had better say in future that she is my -half-sister. She does look ridiculously young.” - -Suddenly poor Prudence bounded from her seat. She had but just -remembered something the Inspector had said—something scarcely noticed -at the time amidst so many conflicting anxieties and emotions. - -“We are trying to trace their parents, as several names and addresses -were found in the possession of Brown, and you would probably in any -case have been subpœnæd to give evidence at the trial.” - -“Great Heaven!” she thought, “so there is to be a trial.” - -The full meaning of the words burst suddenly upon her. It should all -come out—the whole story. She saw herself in court, heckled, badgered, -cross-examined, made perhaps to contradict herself at every turn, -surveyed critically by the boarders at Beaconsfield Gardens, who, of -course, would flock to hear the case. She would be flouted, disbelieved -if she told the truth, tripped up and convicted of falsehood if she -lied, accused no doubt of perjury, perhaps of murder, ordered to the -cells to undergo terrible and unknown penalties, while Augusta—the only -person who could prove her innocence and good faith—Augusta was a -helpless, speechless infant, unable to testify in her favour. Of law, of -legal procedure, of what a judge could or could not do, Prudence was -profoundly ignorant. All that was plain to her was, that she could not -produce her sister in the flesh as known to and recognisable by her -acquaintances, and that no one would credit her if she produced the baby -and said that was Augusta. Even at the best, if no question as to her -sister arose, no suspicion of murder, how bad it looked to have smuggled -a child away, and given it to such a person as Mrs. Brown to cruelly -use. Cold beads of perspiration stood out on the poor woman’s forehead. -No! she would not be mixed up in it; she would not go into court at all; -she would get back her sister and flee far away from London, and Mrs. -Brown, and the medical lady. In agonised haste she pulled the check -string, and bade the cabman drive back at once to the station. She would -tell the Inspector that she declined to give evidence under any -circumstances—surely they could not force her to if she refused—and -bitterly she reproached herself for her unpardonable stupidity in not -having done this at the time. - -She tumbled out of the cab, and made her way like one distraught to the -little office where she had seen the Inspector. Alas! he had just gone -out. No one knew where he had gone to or when he would return. Prudence -had therefore to content herself with leaving a verbal message with a -subordinate, to the effect that nothing would induce her to appear -against Mrs. Brown or anyone else, or to enter a court of law under any -circumstances. This done, she returned to her cab with a mind rather -more at ease, and resumed her journey to the workhouse. - -Workhouse porters are not usually chosen for their urbanity, and he of -St. Mark’s was no exception to the rule. “It is not visiting day,” he -said to her, “and you ought to know better than come bothering here.” He -was deaf to her appeals to see Augusta. “It can’t be done,” he said. -“You should come on Thursday between three and six. It’s no use your -making a disturbance.” As she still persisted, he lost his temper, and -told her she had better go, or he would have her turned out. - -The frightened Prudence hurried back to her cab, and, sobbing miserably, -directed the driver to South Kensington. Worn out by the fatigues and -excitements of the day, she arrived at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, in time -for dinner. - -She would have given anything not to be obliged to put in an appearance -at that meal, but she did not dare to remain in her room. Her fear of -attracting notice was morbid. - -The boarders, for a wonder, were discussing Dickens as Prudence took her -place at table. - -“Dickens is an author I have never read,” Mrs. Dumaresq was saying. - -“Really!” responded Major Jones. “Why not?” - -“My dear mother did not approve of his works when I was a girl,” said -Mrs. Dumaresq, “and, since then, what I have seen of his writings has -not induced me to form a different opinion.” - -“But I never heard it said that Dickens had written anything -objectionable.” - -“Oh, objectionable! Well, not exactly objectionable in the sense you -mean,” answered Mrs. Dumaresq; “that might not matter so much, but he -deals with people who are not in our set.” - -“It says in to-day’s paper that the Princess drove over yesterday to see -the motor cars,” said Mrs. Whitley suddenly to Mrs. Dumaresq. - -Now Mrs. Whitley spoke indistinctly, and with a lisp, which no doubt -accounted for Mrs. Dumaresq’s unexpected reply, for that lady said, - -“Oh, yes, to be sure; so she did. They are dear old friends of ours. -Such charming people!” - -Mrs. Whitley looked astonished. “I’m afraid you don’t quite understand -me,” she said; “I spoke of the motor cars.” - -“Oh, ah! Yes, to be sure,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, slightly embarrassed. -“The motor cars—yes, I have seen them.” - -There was a long pause, during which the lady regained her -self-possession. - -“Have you heard from your sister, Miss Semaphore?” asked Mrs. Dumaresq, -after a time, as she ate her soup. - -“Yes, thank you.” - -“And how is she?” - -“Not so well—at least, better. I mean she is not yet quite well, but is -better than she was.” - -What further embarrassing questions the lady might have put Prudence -could only speculate, for, providentially, Mrs. Dumaresq was appealed to -by the medical woman for her opinion on some hotly-contested question of -Government policy. This was being discussed by Major Jones and Mr. -Lorimer, who, it has been said, like most gentlemen that live in -boarding-houses, were staunch Conservatives. A new boarder had just -given utterance to deplorably Radical sentiments. - -Mrs. Dumaresq had not heard, and politely requested information as to -the point at issue. - -“My husband,” said the wife of the new boarder, “remarked that, in -proportion to their means, the poor are taxed far more heavily than the -rich, and he advocates reversing this. What do you think?” - -“Really,” said Mrs. Dumaresq with lofty sweetness, “I have no opinion on -the subject. I know absolutely nothing of politics.” - -“Oh! Then you are a Conservative,” said the new boarder’s wife abruptly. -“I have always noticed that when a woman begins by telling me she knows -nothing of politics, it means that she is a Tory.” - -Mrs. Dumaresq looked offended. “Well,” she said, after a brief pause, -“my sympathies are naturally with the aristocracy, amongst whom my life -has been passed. In military and diplomatic circles everyone is -Conservative, so if I have any bias, it is in favour of my friends.” - -The wife of the new boarder happened, unfortunately, to be an earnest -woman, so she did not let the matter drop. - -“But why,” she pursued, “should you, a member of the great English -middle-class, set yourself to uphold a system inimical to the interests -not only of the poor but of your equals.” - -The listeners felt the position to be strained. No one had ever pressed -a point on Mrs. Dumaresq before, and all the ladies thought the new -boarder’s wife was audacious and ill-bred. She herself, however, was -quite at her ease, though eager and interested. - -Mrs. Dumaresq smiled rather acidly. “I can scarcely claim the privilege -of belonging to what you call ‘the great English middle-class,’” she -said. “My relations have not been in that sphere.” - -“But surely,” said the new boarder’s wife, “you do not consider that you -belong to the working class? That would be absurd. You are too modest. -Why, business people on such a very large scale as your relatives might -almost rank with professional men. My husband comes from Northampton, -and I have often heard your brother spoken of as one of the most -well-to-do men in the town. Does he keep on the pawnbroking business -still? There was some talk of his retiring from that after he was -elected Mayor.” - -For a moment Mrs. Dumaresq looked as if she had received a blow. She -went white and red in rapid succession, then rallied, and smiled -artificially at the unconscious and unconcerned wife of the new boarder. - -“I fancy you misunderstood the drift of my remarks,” she said. “And so -your husband knows Northampton. Busy town, is it not? Yes, my brother -does own—a—a—some business houses there, that were left to him as -portion of the vast estate of—um—a wealthy relative, and, I believe -that, finding them very profitable, he has allowed them to be kept on. -So many people nowadays do not shrink from trade as they used when I was -young. This is a democratic age, is it not?” - -“Why, I thought it was your father who founded the business,” said the -new boarder’s wife; but Mrs. Dumaresq had just begun to tell Mrs. -Whitley of a sale of work that she had been to that afternoon, which had -been opened by Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, and she failed to -hear the observation. - -There was an uncomfortable silence. The prestige of Mrs. Dumaresq was -rudely shaken. Then everyone began talking together, while the medical -lady meditated questioning the new boarder’s wife later, and finding out -all she had to tell about the family of Mrs. Dumaresq, whose superior -airs had more than once irritated her. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - A SENSATION IN “THE STAR.” - - -When dinner was over, and the feminine boarders had filed upstairs as -usual, a fresh shock awaited poor Prudence. There was sudden great -excitement in the street. A dozen newsboys, with stentorian lungs, -bellowed up and down Beaconsfield Gardens the words, “Extry -Speschul—’orrible case—_Re_-volting details,” alone being distinctly -audible. - -The women crowded to the window trying to hear, and speculating what the -sensation might be. Major Jones went to the front door and bought a copy -of _The Star_, which he kindly brought up to the drawing-room for the -benefit of the ladies. - -“Well, Major, what is it all about?” asked little Mrs. Whitley eagerly, -when Major Jones entered the room. - -“A dreadful Baby Farming Case,” said the Major. “Fifteen babies -discovered in a horrible state of dirt and neglect somewhere at the East -End.” - -“I thought it was a murder,” said the medical woman, somewhat -disappointed. - -“Oh, this is just as bad! Do read it, please,” cried Miss Belcher, Mrs. -Whitley, and Mrs. Wilcox, who had just finished pouring out tea. - -Major Jones rubbed his glasses with a silk handkerchief, holding _The -Star_ tightly under his arm the while. Then, having adjusted his -spectacles, and taken up a position immediately under the gas, he read -in a quick, monotonous voice: - - “HORRIBLE BABY FARMING CASE! - - REVOLTING DETAILS!! - FIFTEEN HELPLESS INFANTS CONSIGNED TO MISERY AND STARVATION!!! - SEARCH FOR UNNATURAL PARENTS. - - “At the Arrow Street Police Court to-day, before Sir John Jenkins, - Sarah Anne Brown, 50, residing at 42, Plummer’s Cottages, Barker’s - Rents, E., and variously known as ‘The Scorcher,’ ‘Soothing Syrup - Sal,’ ‘Amelia Tompkins,’ ‘Mary Ann Martin,’ ‘Mrs. Ash,’ ‘Mrs. Fry,’ - &c., was charged with being drunk and disorderly, and assaulting the - police. Police-constable Brady X 2001 deposed to being on duty in Pitt - Street last night at 9.30. He saw the prisoner, who was the centre of - a noisy crowd of roughs, dancing before the door of the ‘Bunch of - Grapes,’ from which she had been ejected. In her arms she carried a - sickly baby, and when requested to move on, she threw the child at the - constable, making use of disgusting language. The child was severely - bruised, and when remonstrated with, the prisoner scratched the - constable’s face. She then flung herself on the ground and kicked. So - violent was she that it took four men to bring her to the station, - where the doctor discovered that the child was suffering from the - effects of neglect and starvation. The wretched infant was immediately - conveyed to the headquarters of the Society for the Prevention of - Cruelty to Children, whence an officer of the Society was at once - despatched to prisoner’s address. On enquiries being made at her - home—a miserable hovel—it seems that no fewer than fourteen - unregistered infants were discovered, the place being in fact a baby - farm on an extensive scale. The children were in an indescribable - state of filth and misery. There was only one feeding bottle on the - premises, and that was half-filled with sour milk. Two of the older - children were gnawing a crust of dry bread. All were nearly naked, - being wrapped in various old rags. A number of pawn tickets of recent - date for articles of infants’ clothing seemed to show that their - wearing apparel had been disposed of by the woman Brown, who appears - to have carried on an extensive traffic in infants for some years. On - the floor of the principal room was a wretched, filthy, flock bed. - There was neither fire nor light in the house. The unfortunate little - sufferers were at once removed to St Mark’s Workhouse, and provided - with food and medical care. Four of them were not expected to live. - - “The prisoner, who seemed to be still under the influence of drink, - made a long and rambling statement about a baby, a crossed cheque, and - a lady, but she was interrupted by the magistrate, who told her she - ought to be ashamed of herself. This was one of the most disgraceful - cases that had ever come before him. - - “Mr. Ramsden asked that the accused should be remanded to enable the - police to make enquiries, as a further charge would be preferred - against her, that she, being an unlicensed person, had undertaken the - charge of fifteen infants under two years of age. - - “The magistrate accordingly desired the case to stand over until the - 18th. It appears that the police found several names and addresses at - the prisoner’s house, which are supposed to be those of parents or - other relatives of the unfortunate little ones. They are diligently - following up these clues, and Sir John Jenkins expressed a hope that - the publicity given to the case would induce all who could give - evidence to come forward.” - -As Major Jones concluded, there was a stir and a sudden rush amongst the -ladies; Miss Prudence Semaphore had fainted. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - A DETECTIVE ON THE TRACK. - - -Boarding-house life tends to make one selfish; “each for himself and God -for us all,” is the boarders’ motto. Where people come and go, drifting -in and out like weeds upon the tide, deep interests or affections are -rare, but even in boarding-houses men are sometimes thoughtful, and -women sympathetic. This is especially true in cases of illness. The -medical lady and Mrs. Dumaresq rushed to the assistance of Prudence when -she stumbled off the sofa in a dead faint. She was conveyed to her room, -smelling-salts, strong brandy-and-water from Major Jones’ private store, -burnt feathers, and other powerful but unpleasant remedies were applied -until she opened her eyes and gasped: - -“Where am I? What has happened?” - -Before anyone could answer, memory apparently came back to her, for she -went into a fit of the wildest hysterics. - -“There now! there now!” said Mrs. Dumaresq soothingly. - -“Don’t talk to her like that, or she will be twice as bad,” observed -Miss Lord in a low stern voice. “Now, Miss Semaphore,” she continued -sharply, “that is quite enough. Just you stop laughing and crying, or I -shall try the effect of a pail of cold water on you.” - -She evidently meant it, and with a few gasping, choking sobs, Prudence -subsided. Though there were two or three violent relapses, each was -promptly checked in turn, so that she allowed herself to be undressed, -put to bed, tucked in, and left quietly weeping, until she fell asleep -from sheer exhaustion. - -Next morning she was too ill and unstrung to rise. The consuming anxiety -that urged her to be up and doing, to recover her lost sister and flee -from London, worked her into a fever. The medical woman, who, much to -the patient’s distaste, had established herself in the sick-room, and -ruled with a rod of iron, absolutely refused to let her rise. Seeing the -papers, and reading or writing letters were likewise prohibited. -Prudence had neither the bodily strength nor the firmness of character -to resist. She simply wept and moaned, and wrung her hands, and -swallowed all the nauseous doses the medical woman prepared for her. -Meantime, the fever increased so rapidly, and the poor creature was so -prostrate, that Miss Lord advised calling in Dr. Creedy, -physician-in-ordinary to the Misses Semaphore. Accordingly, without -consulting Prudence, Dr. Creedy was sent for. He was a little, fat, -bald-headed man, of few words, and thought Prudence very ill indeed. -When he left her room he had a long conversation with the medical woman -and Mrs. Dumaresq, pronounced the patient to be suffering apparently -from the effect of shock, and enquired where her sister was. Mrs. -Dumaresq told him Miss Semaphore had gone to the seaside for a change, -having herself been seriously and mysteriously ill. - -“I think she ought to be communicated with,” said the doctor, “I should -not alarm her, but this may be a grave matter, and it would be wise to -let her know that Miss Prudence is not very well. She might help us to -soothe her, for Miss Prudence has evidently some trouble on her mind. -Unless we can remove the cause of her anxiety, my medicines will have -little effect.” - -“But we don’t know Miss Semaphore’s address, doctor,” objected Mrs. -Dumaresq. “I believe she wrote yesterday to say she was better, but her -sister did not tell anyone where she had gone to.” - -“No doubt our patient will give it to you if you ask her,” said the -doctor. He prescribed a composing draught, ordered a certain course of -treatment, which the medical woman guaranteed to carry out, then took -his hat and his departure. - -Mrs. Dumaresq, like Miss Lord, loved anything that gave her a little -temporary importance, so Dr. Creedy had no sooner gone than she -approached the bedside of Miss Prudence, and said in her sweetest tones: - -“I think, dear Miss Semaphore, that perhaps your sister may be uneasy if -she does not hear from you. You know the doctor says you are to make no -exertion for a day or two. I forget where you said she was staying, but -if you will give me her address, I shall have much pleasure in writing -to her and telling her all the news.” - -To the speaker’s intense alarm, she had not concluded this apparently -harmless sentence when Prudence had a relapse so sudden and violent that -it at once brought the medical woman on the scene. Without ceremony—her -manners had never pleased Mrs. Dumaresq—she bundled the diplomatic lady -into the corridor, and left her reflecting bitterly that since the new -boarder’s wife had betrayed such inconvenient knowledge of her family, -Miss Lord had been much less civil. - -After about twenty minutes the medical woman joined her, and enquired -abruptly: - -“What were you saying to her to set her off like that again?” - -“Nothing at all. I cannot account for it. I only asked her for her -sister’s address that I might write to her. You heard the doctor say she -ought to be told how ill Miss Prudence is.” - -“Look here,” exclaimed the medical woman, “this is more of the mystery -about her sister which I feel persuaded is at the bottom of her illness. -You shouldn’t have mentioned her at all, and the woman in such a state -of nerves. I wish I could find out what really is the matter. It seems -to me to be all of a piece.” - -“Oh! I don’t believe it has anything to do with her sister,” said Mrs. -Dumaresq, offended. “Why, she went off in a dead faint last night when -no one was speaking of her sister. I thought at the time it was -something in that case Major Jones was reading out that affected her.” - -“About the baby farming woman?” asked the medical woman. “Why, what -earthly effect could that have on her? She could have nothing to do with -that.” - -“I confess,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, “I don’t see exactly how it could, but -I’m persuaded there is some connection between the two. Did you notice -her face when he began to read? No? Well, I did, and I never saw horror -more plainly depicted on a human countenance. I have been thinking -matters over, and putting two and two together. Do you remember the -extraordinary tipsy woman that called before dinner on Tuesday? I am -certain I heard her say something about a cheque and bringing back a -baby. I happened to be going upstairs at the moment, as you may -recollect, and stopped on the landing to tie my shoe string.” - -“Oh, that’s absurd on the face of it,” said the medical woman. “Miss -Semaphore is a perfectly respectable woman, and not likely to be mixed -up with people of that kind. Why I was on the stairs at the same time, -and I did not hear a word of this; there was certainly something said -about a cheque, but not about a baby.” - -“But I beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Dumaresq with asperity, “perhaps your -hearing is not as good as mine. I certainly heard the woman say -threateningly she would bring back the child, or the infant, I forget -which word was used, if something were not done.” - -“They are charitable,” reflected the medical woman, “perhaps they -subscribe to a home or institution, and this was some tipsy pensioner.” - -“Perhaps so,” said Mrs. Dumaresq oracularly, “time will tell.” - -“I’m certain she is upset about her sister’s mysterious illness.” - -“And I’m certain she is upset about that woman’s visit, and that there -is some connection between it and the case in the papers. I have an -instinct in such matters.” - -“Take care it does not mislead you,” said the medical woman. Mrs. -Dumaresq again noticed bitterly that her friend was much less -deferential since the new boarder’s wife had spoken so abruptly of her -brother. - -Whatever the cause of the younger Miss Semaphore’s illness, there was no -doubt that it had alarmingly increased since Mrs. Dumaresq injudiciously -questioned her. Fever, extreme excitability, restlessness, and a -tendency to delirium, all manifested themselves, and it was only when a -composing draught had been administered, that the patient sank into a -troubled slumber. As she sat watching her, the medical lady heard a -slight knock at the door, and opened it cautiously. - -It was Mary the maid. - -“Please ’m,” she said, “there’s a gentleman in the ’all wanting to see -Miss Prudence Semaphore.” - -“What does he want with her?” asked the medical woman surprised. “Did -you tell him she was ill?” - -“Please ’m, I don’t know. I did tell him she was ill, but ’e said ’e -should see ’er whether or no.” - -“I shall go down to him,” said the medical woman with dignity, and she -went. - -“My good sir,” she began, “Miss Semaphore is extremely ill, and must on -no account be disturbed. If you have any message for her, I shall be -pleased to deliver it when she is strong enough to attend to business.” - -“I come from Scotland Yard, madam,” said the man respectfully, “and my -business is with Miss Semaphore herself. I shall not detain her long, -but I must see her.” - -“Quite impossible,” said the medical woman with decision. “The doctor -would never allow it. She is extremely restless and feverish, and has -just been given a sleeping draught, so that it would be most dangerous -to rouse her. But what do you want with her?” - -“She is required to give evidence in a case.” - -Her conversation with Mrs. Dumaresq flashed through the mind of the -medical woman. Could it be that her theory was right after all? Without -considering what she was saying, she asked with an air of confidence and -knowledge: - -“Is it the baby farming case?” - -“Yes,” said the stranger. - -“My good gracious heavens!” said the medical woman, sitting down -abruptly and heavily on the hall chair. “Who would have thought it? What -has _she_ to do with the case?” she asked insinuatingly, but the -stranger from Scotland Yard had already repented saying “yes,” and -replied: - -“I really can tell you nothing about it, madam, my business is entirely -personal to Miss Semaphore.” - -“Well, she cannot see you, you know,” repeated the medical woman. “I am -nursing her, and will not take the responsibility. Can you not call -again?” - -The stranger hesitated. - -“I suppose I shall have to. When do you think she will be able to -receive me?” - -“If she has a good night, and is kept perfectly quiet to-morrow, she may -be able to see you next day, but I can’t answer for it.” - -“Very well,” said the man, “I will call again the day after to-morrow.” - -The medical woman belied the statement that great bodies move slowly, -for she broke the record in speeding to Mrs. Dumaresq’s room. She had -scarcely patience to wait for a “come in” in reply to her agitated -knock, when she burst out with: - -“I do believe you were right after all.” - -“How? What do you mean? About what?” - -“About that baby farming case. A detective—a detective”—and she paused -to observe the look of horror that the face of Mrs. Dumaresq assumed at -the word—“has just been here from Scotland Yard to see Miss Semaphore. I -told him she was too ill, and asked his business. He said she was -required to give evidence in a case, and when I said, ‘Is it a baby -farming case?’ he said ‘Yes.’” - -“I knew it,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, clasping her hands with fervour. “I -knew it from the very moment I saw her face of guilt and terror. Oh! to -think that I should be in the same house with such a woman. As sure as -you stand there, this address will get into the papers, and what will -become of us? If my friends see it, I am lost.” - -The two women stood looking at each other blankly. - -“The best thing to do,” said the medical woman, “is to go to Mrs. -Wilcox, tell her our suspicions, and insist on this—this person being -moved the very first moment she is fit.” - -“It is horrible, horrible,” ejaculated Mrs. Dumaresq. “When do you think -she will be able to go?” - -“Not for a couple of days, I fear,” said the medical woman. “It is -better to say nothing about this detective to her. It will only agitate -her and throw her back, and spoil the chance of her speedy recovery, -which, of course, we must promote in every way.” - -“My position,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, “is horrible. The idea of knowing -such people! What will my friends say?” - -“What will all our friends say?” exclaimed the medical woman abruptly. -“We are every one in the same position. It will be an awful scandal, and -the worst of it is, that I fear this is not the whole story. You take my -word, there is more to come out. I had my suspicions from the first, but -I am naturally good-natured, and could not bring myself to believe them. -Every day, however, confirms their truth. A woman who could for so long -deceive us as to her real character, a woman who led me, _me_, to look -on her as, at worst, a harmless fool, and was all the time mixed up with -police and criminals and baby farmers, is capable of anything.” - -“Then you think she is?—she has?” queried Mrs. Dumaresq breathlessly. - -“I shan’t say what I think just yet,” said the medical woman. “I will -make some searching enquiries first, and if my worst fears are -confirmed, I will reveal all to Mrs. Wilcox this evening, and let her -take action. My dear, we are lucky if we find she has been guilty of -baby farming alone.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - A COUNCIL OF WAR. - - -That evening there was a mysterious private gathering of ladies in Mrs. -Dumaresq’s room, chosen because it was the largest. To it came first of -all the medical woman, bursting with importance and revelations. Mrs. -Whitley, Mrs. Dumaresq herself, and the specially invited Mrs. Wilcox -made up the conclave. - -Mrs. Wilcox was nervous and agitated. She felt sure the medical woman -had something dreadful to tell her, and whether that something related -to the contagious nature of Miss Prudence Semaphore’s illness, or to -something darker but less infectious, she did not know. - -“Well, ladies,” she began nervously, as by Mrs. Dumaresq’s request she -seated herself, “what have you to say to me? I hope,” she added, turning -to Miss Lord, “that your patient’s illness has not taken a serious -form?” - -There was an awful pause. The medical woman knew when she had got a good -thing, and was in no hurry to begin. - -“Is it—is it diphtheria?” quavered Mrs. Wilcox. - -Still the medical woman sat silent, with every eye fixed on her. - -“Oh, do tell us! Tell us the worst,” pleaded Mrs. Wilcox. “Is she going -to die?” - -“She will live,” said the medical woman solemnly. “She will live—to die -on the scaffold.” - -“Gracious Heavens!” exclaimed everyone simultaneously. - -“Yes, ladies. To die on the scaffold. I repeat it. Prudence Semaphore -is, I fear—a murderess.” - -Mrs. Wilcox screamed. - -“Miss Lord, Miss Lord,” she cried. “Pray be careful. Do not say such -dreadful things. Miss Semaphore and her sister came to me with the -highest recommendations, and you really—” - -“Aye,” said the medical woman, with stately and awful triumph, “she came -with her sister—where is her sister now?” - -“At the seaside somewhere, I suppose. She did not leave me her address,” -said Mrs. Wilcox weakly. - -“At the seaside you suppose,” echoed the medical woman with fine scorn. -“No, my dear madam, she is dead—and Prudence Semaphore murdered -her—murdered her in this very house. Oh, you need not look at me like -that. I’ve not spoken until I have traced every link in the chain of -crime.” - -“What did I say?” interposed Mrs. Dumaresq. - -“What did I say from the very first?” She looked round appealingly at -Mrs. Whitley. “I said I hoped she had not been murdered. You remember I -used those very words.” - -No one heeded her, for everyone was looking at the medical woman, as she -gloated over the sensation she had caused. - -“For pity sake, tell us all—all in strict confidence,” gasped Mrs. -Wilcox. “What Captain Wilcox will say, I really cannot imagine.” - -“Well,” said the medical woman, “I had my suspicions front the first, -but they were vague. I felt that something was wrong, but did not know -what that something was. The confusion of manner of Prudence Semaphore, -her refusal to say plainly what ailed her sister, her reluctance to call -in a doctor, and the extraordinarily small amount of nourishment she -provided for her, were all remarkable. Then she would let no one see -her. She put you off, Mrs. Wilcox, and she burst into quite a rage when, -in the interests of humanity, I desired to visit the poor neglected -sufferer. No doubt by that time Miss Semaphore was beyond human help, -for now I recall, there was an indescribable air of guilt about that -unhappy woman, and she showed a ferocity of character for which I had -not given her credit. Still, I said nothing. Then came the discovery -that Miss Semaphore had disappeared. That threw me off the scent for a -time. I am always disposed to think as well of other people as possible, -and while her leaving the house so suddenly and mysteriously seemed to -point to her having a dangerous and possibly infectious illness, and -being smuggled out of the way by Prudence, I did not seriously think she -was dead. Our search of the room revealed nothing. The renewed calm of -manner shown by that wretched creature, and the plausible story she told -of her sister having gone to the seaside, I confess, lulled my -suspicions to sleep. The story was queer, but it was not too improbable. -Then came the visit paid Prudence by a drunken woman, who insisted on -seeing her, and made such an uproar in the hall. Mrs. Dumaresq declares -that she heard her say something about a cheque and an infant—” - -“So I did,” corroborated Mrs. Dumaresq. - -“Well I didn’t catch the words, but events have proved that you were -right. Next followed”—she hesitated. - -“Her fainting,” said Mrs. Whitley. - -“Yes, her fainting suddenly in the drawing-room, when Major Jones was -reading out something about that horrid baby farming case. I did not -connect these events, Mrs. Dumaresq did.” - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, with modest triumph. “I observed her face of -terror, and remembering what the woman had said, I put two and two -together.” - -“Well, you mentioned the matter to me, and I confess I was sceptical. My -suspicions ran in a different groove, but it now seems that we were both -right.” - -Mrs. Wilcox and Mrs. Whitley gasped simultaneously. - -“You know some of what followed,” said the medical woman, addressing -Mrs. Dumaresq. “This afternoon a man called to see that wretched -criminal. I, suspecting nothing, went down to see him and ask his -business, for she had just taken a sleeping draught. He told me—.” The -medical woman paused to gain her full effect. “He told me that he was a -detective from Scotland Yard, and that his business with Miss Prudence -Semaphore was personal and private. Mrs. Dumaresq’s words flashed on me -like a thunderbolt, and quite suddenly I asked him, as if I knew all -about it, if he wanted to see her in connection with the baby farming -case, and he said ‘Yes,’—he said ‘_Yes._’—I expect he saw then he had -made a mistake, for I could not get another word out of him after that, -but he is to call again the day after to-morrow.” - -The horror of Mrs. Wilcox and Mrs. Whitley could not be expressed. Mrs. -Dumaresq listened with the calm air of one who has been in the secret -all along. - -“When I saw,” said the medical woman, “that Justice was upon her track, -that she was mixed up with detectives and baby-farmers, all my former -suspicions came back with a rush, but I felt the necessity for being -calm and just. I remembered the curious circumstances I have mentioned, -and also the queer relapse she had to-day when Mrs. Dumaresq asked for -her sister’s address, finally saying she did not know. The whole thing -was as plain as possible. Her sister had disappeared, because she had -been somehow made away with. No doubt there were circumstances in the -past life of Prudence Semaphore that she dreaded coming to her -knowledge, for we all know how particular poor dear Miss Semaphore was. -Still, I resolved to search, to enquire before I decided. I told Mrs. -Dumaresq about the detective, and then I began a rigorous investigation, -beginning quietly with the servants.” - -“But perhaps her sister really is at the seaside somewhere,” suggested -Mrs. Wilcox. “All this is very shocking about the detective and the baby -farming; but Miss Semaphore may be alive and well, for all that proves -to the contrary.” - -“Wait till you hear,” said the medical woman, shaking a solemn finger at -Mrs. Wilcox. “First of all, I made cautious enquiries from the servants. -Mary tells me that from the day Prudence reported that Miss Semaphore -was ill, she was never permitted to enter her room. Never saw her again, -in fact. She tried to get in, but the door was always locked. This, too, -was my own experience. Then something was said about a letter having -come for Prudence from her sister. Müller and Mary both know Miss -Semaphore’s handwriting, and they agree that to their knowledge no such -letter has been delivered here. I next enquired as to whether anyone had -seen Miss Semaphore leave the house. It was unlikely that an invalid, -probably still weak from illness, should be able to get downstairs and -out of the house unobserved. Besides, there was the question of luggage. -She could hardly have gone and taken nothing with her, not even a change -of dress. But no one saw her. I then put on my bonnet, went out and -spoke to the men on the two nearest cab ranks. They all agree in saying -that none of them took up a lady fare, or two ladies, with or without -luggage, on the Tuesday, from this house. Major Jones tells us he saw -someone, who he is sure was Miss Prudence Semaphore, and alone, crossing -the road hastily near Tate Street. That would have been shortly after -dinner on Tuesday evening. It seems absolutely plain, therefore, that -Miss Semaphore did not leave the house at all.” - -“But we saw her empty room that night,” said Mrs. Whitley. “We saw her -empty bed. She must have gone some time before we went upstairs to visit -her.” - -“My theory is,” said the medical woman, “that she was then concealed in -that very room.” - -“But where? Not in the wardrobe, for we opened that, nor under the bed, -for we looked there, and there really was no place else.” - -“Oh, yes, there was. You remember that the very next day, I think, -Prudence sent away two boxes, ostensibly full of her sister’s -belongings. Now my theory is, and time will prove whether I am not -right, that in one of those boxes, the big grey one, bound with iron, -was the body of Miss Semaphore!” - -By this time the medical woman’s hearers were trembling in every limb. - -“How awful!” quaked Mrs. Whitley. “Why it is just like that East End -tragedy. I forget the name—when a woman—no, a man, was taken away dead -in a box.” - -“This is a serious accusation,” said Mrs. Wilcox, after a time of -digestive silence, “and it doesn’t seem to me to be proved.” - -“Doesn’t it?” enquired the medical woman indignantly. “Well, I presume -you’ll believe it when you see the poor creature dead before you, and -are called on to identify her remains, as I have no doubt you will be.” - -“But Miss Prudence is really so gentle; besides, what motive could she -have for killing her sister?” - -“Gentle? A woman—a hypocrite like that, with her baby-farmers and -detectives after her? Don’t tell me! And as for motives, it seems plain -enough that she may have had several that we cannot guess at. Mary tells -me the Semaphores had a violent quarrel about a fortnight ago, and -probably that decided her.” - -“Oh, they often quarrelled. Poor Miss Semaphore, you know, was trying -enough at times, but Miss Prudence never bore malice.” - -“Oh, Mrs. Wilcox, it seems to me you think she is a plaster saint, and -if so, there is no use my saying anything more—but I warn you. Time will -tell.” - -“Indeed, I don’t,” said Mrs. Wilcox hastily. “I think the whole affair -is terrible and disgraceful enough on the face of it, and the sooner I -get Miss Prudence Semaphore out of the house, the better. I must speak -to Captain Wilcox at once. But then murder—. No, I can’t believe it.” - -“Well, if you are going to risk allowing an infamous criminal to escape -justice, a Cain whose hands are dyed in her sister’s blood, I confess I -am surprised at you.” - -“But think of the disgrace to the house,” pleaded Mrs. Wilcox. “It will -be put in the papers, and we shall be ruined, and you know, after all, -Miss Lord, we are not quite sure. Miss Semaphore may be alive and well -somewhere, and what fools we should look if we made a fuss, and then she -turned up all right.” - -“She never will turn up,” said the medical woman gloomily. “There never -was a clearer case of circumstantial evidence. It doesn’t take a -Sherlock Holmes to piece it together.” - -“But what do you want me to do?” - -“I think that as I have placed all the facts before you, your duty is to -inform the police at once. You are the head of this house, and if you -sanction such goings on, it is no place for respectable people.” - -Mrs. Wilcox wrung her hands despairingly. - -“I appeal to you, ladies,” she said, addressing Mrs. Dumaresq and Mrs. -Whitley, “to consider that if Miss Semaphore is alive, we might, by -saying a word, lay ourselves, all four, open to an action for libel. It -may be as Miss Lord says; still, until things develop, until we know a -little more about this trial and the baby farming, and the connection of -Miss Prudence with it all, it is better to be silent, and get her away -peaceably. Even if nobody saw Miss Semaphore leave, there is no proof -that she did not slip out unobserved, though I grant it seems unlikely.” - -“Do as you wish,” said the medical woman in a towering rage. “I will be -no party to these concealments. My duty is clear, and however painful it -may be, I will do it.” - -“But the libel, Miss Lord,” suggested Mrs. Whitley. “What Mrs. Wilcox -says is true. If Miss Semaphore turns up, her sister may prosecute you.” - -This rather sobered the medical woman. - -“Well,” she said, more conciliatingly, “what do you suggest should be -done?” - -“I think,” said Mrs. Dumaresq, “I think it would be more diplomatic to -wait until this trial, or whatever it is, comes off. If Miss Semaphore -is alive, I should think it certain she will turn up at it. Or perhaps, -indeed, the suspicion of the authorities has already fallen on Prudence. -We don’t really know why the detectives are after her. Let us wait. Let -us go to that trial and hear what comes out. If she does not clear -herself of this charge, whatever it may be, and if her sister does not -put in an appearance, I think it might be well for you, Mrs. Wilcox, to -suggest to the prosecuting counsel that he should cross-examine her as -to her sister’s whereabouts. Then, if she cannot give satisfactory -replies, and if anything to her disadvantage comes out, she will -probably be suspected, and the whole affair will be gone into without -our making ourselves responsible in any way.” - -“That,” said Mrs. Wilcox, “I consider to be an excellent idea. And now, -ladies, I beg of you not to let a word of all this escape you. In a -house like ours, one cannot be too careful. Until we really know the -truth, there is no use in telling anyone what we think. Will you all -promise me to be silent about it?” - -Mrs. Dumaresq and Mrs. Whitley agreed, and after some persuasion a -reluctant consent was won from the medical woman, who promised to hold -her tongue, until after the trial, any way. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - NOTICE TO QUIT. - - -With the curious intuition common to the sick, Prudence felt that -something was wrong. There was an atmosphere of unrest about her. - -She noted the frown on the brow of Mrs. Wilcox and the hardness of her -tone when she asked her how she felt, and if she thought she would be -able to sit up for a while to-morrow, though Mrs. Wilcox did her best to -speak in her natural voice. - -She remarked the averted face of her old enemy, the medical woman, but -she was too prostrate to heed them, or to enquire if anything unpleasant -had occurred. - -She did not seem to mind much what happened now. Justice was probably on -her track. She was a criminal hiding from the law. She would be hunted -down, exposed, put to public shame. Augusta—her poor Augusta—how was -she? In what condition would she be found? Tears of sorrow and weakness -gushed from the eyes of the afflicted lady, but the rest and quiet and -the absence of fresh agitation gradually calmed her nerves, and she had -leisure to reflect on her course of action. There was nothing for it but -to come forward, if compelled, and speak the whole truth. She had had -enough of subterfuges and prevarications. She would tell her story—they -might believe it or not as they liked. She thought, in the apathy of -despair, they probably wouldn’t—time would tell, for surely Augusta, if -ever she became able to speak, would confirm her testimony—granted she -had not lost her memory of the events connected with her previous life. -There would be two or three years to wait probably, but that could not -be helped. She might, meantime, be cast into prison. For that she was -prepared. With the courage of despair she braced herself to meet -whatever fate might have in store for her. At any rate, it could not be -worse than the tortures she had already endured. - -When, two days later, the detective from Scotland Yard called, she was -able to receive him in Mrs. Wilcox’s sanctum, for that lady would not -suffer him to be shown into the drawing-room. It was with a sense of -having been through all this before, that Prudence read that “Victoria, -by the Grace of God, Queen,” summoned her to give evidence at the Arrow -Street Police Court, on the ensuing Monday morning, “in the case of the -Queen _v._ Sarah Anne Brown, otherwise,” &c., &c. - -Well, the worst had come, and she would go through with it somehow. What -awaited her when the trial was over she did not venture to speculate. -That she had come within the clutches of the law she did not doubt, and -her future loomed vague and dreadful. Where could she go if she escaped -prison? Her name would be in every paper, her story on every lip. Even -the lady who sold the Water of Youth had never heard of a case of a -grown, an elderly person, being transformed into a baby by its effects. -She foresaw that it would be generally believed that she had got rid of -Augusta, and that the baby was—but who or what the baby might be -considered was a point on which she absolutely refused to speculate. - -Long after the man from Scotland Yard had taken his departure, she sat -in a sort of stupor, taking no note of objects round her, and unaware -that she was alone, when she was startled by the entrance of Mrs. -Wilcox. - -The air of that lady was portentous. - -“Miss Semaphore,” she said, “there is something I have been anxious to -say to you for several days back, but did not like to speak while you -were ill. Now, however, that you are able to receive _visitors_”—with -sarcastic emphasis—“I think you are well enough to hear what I have got -to say. It is this, that I desire that you will look for accommodation -elsewhere, and leave my house at the very earliest opportunity.” - -“You mean to turn me out?” asked Prudence in alarm. - -“Far be it from me to turn anyone out,” said Mrs. Wilcox. “I merely -request you to leave.” - -“But why?” said Prudence timidly. - -“Why?” echoed Mrs. Wilcox almost in a shriek. “Why? I think you had -better ask yourself that question, Miss Semaphore. I have always tried -to keep my house respectable, and I must say, Miss Semaphore, if I was -to die for it, that I looked to you and your sister to aid me in that -endeavour, rather than to bring disgrace on a first-class and -well-conducted establishment. ‘Why?’ indeed!” - -“I have had a great deal of worry lately,” said Prudence, “quite without -any fault of my own, but neither my sister nor myself have done anything -to bring disgrace on your establishment, Mrs. Wilcox.” - -“No!” ejaculated Mrs. Wilcox angrily. “Then what about all this -baby-farming business, and detectives from Scotland Yard coming here -looking for you?” - -Utterly confounded by such unexpected knowledge on the part of her -landlady, and ignorant of how much more she might have learned, Prudence -could only gaze at her in helpless bewilderment, while Mrs. Wilcox stood -nodding her head and grimly enjoying the confusion she had occasioned. - -“I have been—I am in great trouble,” Prudence stuttered; “but I am not -to blame—no one is really to blame, if you’d only believe me. The whole -thing was an accident. If you know anything at all about it, you must -know it was an accident!” - -“An accident?” shrieked Mrs. Wilcox. It flashed through her mind that -perhaps after all the medical woman was right. - -“Quite an accident,” said Prudence. “Simply an overdose. The bottle -broke, you see, so the poor dear made haste to swallow the contents, and -accidently took too much.” - -“I really think, Miss Semaphore,” said Mrs. Wilcox very slowly, “I -really think your mind is wandering.” - -“Oh no, indeed I’m not wandering. That was how it happened, and of -course after that I had to get rid of the poor dear, especially as I -never dreamt you knew anything about it.” - -More and more confirmed in her belief that Prudence was either raving or -confessing a murder, Mrs. Wilcox spoke. - -“Well, without enquiring further as to what has happened, or how it -happened, having no desire to be mixed up in a very painful affair, I -think, Miss Semaphore, we had better part, and the sooner you can make -it convenient the better.” - -“Oh, do keep me until after Monday,” cried Prudence, breaking down. “The -trial will be on Monday, and that will decide what course I must take; -but now I am ill, I am not fit to undertake packing. I cannot go.” - -“I am sorry to insist, Miss Semaphore, but go you must. I will tell Jane -she is to help you to pack. Even if I were willing to keep you, Captain -Wilcox is not, and in such matters he is terribly severe. I really -cannot gainsay him. He says he will not have you under this roof for -forty-eight hours longer, and would sooner forfeit payment for your -week’s board now due than let you stay.” - -Prudence got up and groped her way blindly to the door. - -“Very well,” she said, turning on the threshold. “Send Jane to me at -once. I will leave before dinner.” - -With the assistance of Jane, Miss Prudence put her belongings together, -dressed, and desired the maid to call a cab. No one came to the door to -see her off; but, glancing at the windows, she saw Mrs. Wilcox peeping -out from her sanctum, and Mrs. Dumaresq and the medical woman from the -window of their respective apartments. - -With a heart full of bitterness, Prudence turned away, and bade the man -drive on. Up one street and down another they went, the unhappy lady -taking no note of where she was going, until she was roused from her -brown study by the cabman, who drew up, descended from his box, and -thrust his head in the window to ask where she wanted to go. - -“I don’t know, cabman,” said Prudence helplessly. “I am looking for -apartments. Do you know of any that are nice and respectable?” - -“Why, yessem, I do,” said the man, “which my wife’s own sister, she -keeps ’em in Victoria Crescent, an’ clean an’ respectable they are, that -I’ll hanswer for; an’ she cooks splendid.” - -“Then drive there, please,” said Prudence apathetically, and fell back -into doleful musings, until the cab stopped at the address. - -Mrs. Perkins, the cabman’s sister-in-law, married to an ex-butler, was a -kindly, cheerful body, who willingly accepted a week’s rent in advance -in lieu of references. In her sage-green parlour Prudence sat down with -a feeling of rest and privacy, to which she had long been a stranger, -and braced herself as best she might for the ordeal before her. - -“My poor darling Gussie,” the goodhearted creature murmured over and -over again. “What you must suffer! My dear sister, what must you think -of me for sending you to that dreadful woman? But I did it for the best, -I did it for the best.” - -The excitement of the move was a great strain on Prudence in her weak -state of health; but Mrs. Perkins proved an admirable nurse, and though -quite unable to leave her bedroom for the next few days, the unhappy -spinster rejoiced at being free from the supervision of the medical -woman. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - AT THE ARROW STREET POLICE COURT. - - -Nervous people are generally too early, and on the fatal Monday morning -Miss Prudence Semaphore, who was still weak and ill, but meantime had -found comparative repose in her quiet and obscure lodgings, presented -herself at the door of the Arrow Street Police Court almost as soon as -it was opened. She was dressed all in black, and with her white face and -long veil looked like a newly made widow. - -The baby farming case had excited great interest in the neighbourhood, -where “good Mrs. Brown” was a well-known personage, and though three -cases stood before it on the list, already dirty drabs from the -surrounding alleys, with still dirtier infants clasped in their arms, -had gathered on the pavement in hope of seeing the prisoner and -witnesses arrive. - -Prudence had the satisfaction of hearing herself described as “the -mother o’ one o’ Sal Brown’s children,” and of being threatened with -personal violence by a brawny matron, who shook her fist under the poor -lady’s nose, and exclaimed, in an access of virtuous indignation, “I -know your sort, I do,” promising, if Prudence would come outside, to -give her “a jolly good ’iding.” At this point a policeman interfered, -and conducted the terrified victim to a private room where she awaited -in misery the usher’s summons. - -Meantime the witnesses began to collect. The various serjeants and -detectives concerned in the case, the spectators of Sal Brown’s war -dance when she used a baby as a weapon, and others arrived singly or in -groups. Amongst the rest came a workhouse matron, and an assistant in -charge of the infants concerned, since in accordance with the usual -procedure, the infants had been sent to the workhouse while awaiting the -trial of Sal. - -The matron was a portly, red-faced woman of fifty, with that brusqueness -of manner acquired by officials accustomed to deal with those whom they -consider their inferiors. Her friend was a pale and highly genteel -person who made many objections to appearing in court at all. The -children, miserable, pinched objects, with the big, bright eyes, long -lashes, and weird faces of the starved, were packed by twos and threes -in perambulators in charge of a couple of pauper women, fifteen unhappy -infants in all. - -Weirdest of the party, was the elder Miss Semaphore, in a pink cotton -frock, an infant’s bib, and an old and often-washed white shawl. Little -Augusta was a singularly unprepossessing baby. - -“Drat the child,” said the workhouse nurse. “She has just the look of a -little old woman, and I never did see one of her age that took such -notice of everything a body does. I declare to you I took a sip of her -milk just to see if it was sweet, and when I turned round I caught her -eye, an’ I’m blest if she didn’t wink. It gave me quite a turn. A real -wicked wink it was, an’ when I gave her the bottle if she didn’t push it -away, and wipe the top before she’d drink a drop.” - -“She was starved, nurse,” said her subordinate. “That’s what it was. -Them children that is starved has a look and ways as if they was ninety. -Many a one of them I’ve seen brought in here, so I knows the kind.” - -“Oh! this one couldn’t have been starved. It was only two days in -Brown’s place I hear. They do say its mother is a lady, and gave it to -Sal with a hundred pounds in gold, and told her to get rid of it as soon -as she liked. Sal went on the spree with the money, an’ that’s how she -was run in. The neighbours said that child had not been long with her. -Look! it’s a deal plumper than the others. They’re regular starved I’ll -allow, but this ’un has queer ways. Now to give you an idear, the matron -and me we had a friendly glass of punch last night after a ’ard day’s -work, and the matron, she says to me, as how she’d like to see the -children in the baby farming case, as there’s so much interest took in -it you know, it made her curious, an’ so I brought her in to see ’em all -a laying in their cots. An’ this ’ere one was awake, staring at us with -all its eyes. So matron, she stoops an’ says, ‘Ow wazzums?’ an’ kisses -it, an’ the cretur it makes a face at her, turns away its head, and -pulls out a bit of blue ribbon as was on a doll I gave it, and makes -signs to her to take it. Struck all of a heap she was. ‘Watever does it -mean?’ sez she. ‘Wy take the blue ribbon,’ sez I, half jokin’, for I -couldn’t believe it, and the objeck looks at me and nods three times -very slowly, just as if to say ‘you’re right.’ It frightened me, it -did.” - -“’Tis your imagination, nurse, that’s wot it is.” - -“Not it,” retorted the nurse. “Imagination don’t trouble me, so it -don’t; but I see wot I see, and there’s no good a trying to persuade me -different. That child is queer. Just look at it now a sucking its thumb -and listening to every word we say, and taking it all in you’d think.” - -Augusta, her scanty downy hair brushed, her nose and cheeks shining with -recent ablutions, certainly had something weird about her, or so it -seemed to both the women. Her eyes had an elfish intelligence that was -startling. She looked as if at any moment she might speak. - -That she understood was only too evident, for she obeyed every direction -given to her when it was to her fancy. At times her efforts to find a -voice, to tell all she knew, could not be mistaken, and inspired as much -fright and pity as the inarticulate cries of the deaf and dumb. - -“What is she doing of now?” said the subordinate suddenly. - -Augusta had been looking at her fixedly until she attracted her -attention, and when the eyes of the nurse and her assistant were fixed -on the elderly infant, they saw she was making violent efforts to get -up. - -“What is it, pet? What is it now?” said the assistant soothingly. “What -does my precious want?” - -“I vow and declare,” said the matron, “that child is making signs as if -she was writing. Look at her finger, do. She makes me nervous, she does. -’Tis no way for a baby like that to go on.” - -“How old would you say she was, nurse?” - -“Oh, ’bout a year I’d say, or fourteen months.” - -“Would you now? Well, p’raps she is; but d’you know when first I saw her -she didn’t seem to look a month old. Queer, wasn’t it? p’raps ’twas the -light, but she do seem a deal older now.” - -“Wat an interest you take in her,” said the matron. “Wy ’er more ’an the -others? Nasty little varmint she is I thinks myself. She might be an -’undred by the looks of ’er.” - -“Wot ken you expect from a pore little neglected come-by-chance? She’s -’ad a bad time, she ’as. I wish I ’ad ’er mother ’ere, an’ I’d give ’er -wot for, so I would.” - -“Will you stop that talking, please,” said a burly policeman, thrusting -his head into the room where the witnesses were assembled. “They can -’ear you in court.” - -The voices fell immediately. - -“Oh, there they are, poor little dears!” said a new-comer, bustling in, -a neighbour of “good Mrs. Brown,” who had been called on to give -evidence as to the condition in which the children were kept. “Let me -see, there’s Florrie and Joey and Ada and Rosy and Tommie; yes, everyone -of them, but where’s the last child? The one Sal got all the dibs with?” - -“Here she is,” said the workhouse matron, indicating Augusta. - -“No you don’t,” said the woman rudely. “’Twas a new-born hinfant, it -was. That child’s a goin’ on two years old, or I’m a Dutchman, an’ I -never set heyes on her before. She don’t belong to Sal’s little lot.” - -The matron made an angry reply, which Sal’s neighbour resented, and -trouble would have ensued, but that the big policeman interfered once -more and commanded silence. Both parties appealed to him, but he would -listen to neither, and gruffly told them to “stow their talk, and keep -their story till they got into court.” - -While this went on in the waiting-room, Prudence was sitting in an agony -of apprehension expecting the summons. - -At last the case of The Queen _v._ Brown was called, and Sal was put -forward on remand charged with the criminal neglect of certain infants -under one year, committed to her charge, and for that she, an unlicensed -person, did receive more than one such infant, contrary to the -regulations of the Act 25 Victoria, section 22, clause 4. - -An officer from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children -deposed that the police had informed him of the deplorable condition of -the unhappy infant, whom Sal was using as an offensive weapon on the -occasion of the arrest. He went to the station where the woman had been -charged, obtained her name and address, and proceeded to make enquiries. -A graphic description of Plummer’s Cottages followed, and of the -wretched objects found there—starved, dirty, and miserable. - -Witness after witness was called to testify to the children being left -for hours without food, fire, or attention. The children were formally -exhibited. The workhouse matron deposed to their condition when -admitted. - -Finally, it was announced that the names and addresses of parents or -other relatives of the children had been found, some of them people of -good position, and that they would be brought forward to swear to their -condition when delivered over to the prisoner. - -There was a thrill of excitement in court, anticipative of scandals. -People of good position do not hand over babies to a Sal Brown without -strong reason. To the rustle and stir succeeded a strained silence as -the usher called the name of “Prudence Semaphore.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - A SCENE IN COURT. - - -Miss Prudence Semaphore, in after years describing her sensations when -placed in the witness box, was accustomed to say she didn’t know whether -she stood on her head or her heels. If any desire to experience the -feeling, without enduring the varied miseries that a cruel fate -inflicted on the unhappy lady, let them, if unaccustomed to public -speaking, be called on for an afterdinner speech. The swimming in the -head, the sea of faces dimly seen, the weakness in the knees, dryness of -the tongue and throat, confusion of thought and general helplessness -experienced, will help them to realise her emotions. The impossibility -of dying suddenly then and there, ere forced to break silence, will -appear a hardship, but they will be spared the terror of having somehow -brought themselves within the clutches of the law, that appalled Miss -Prudence. Speechmaking is not penal. Would that it were; but a -respectable spinster, mixed up in a baby farming case, the only witness -to her truth and _bonâ fides_ a helpless, speechless infant, can -scarcely hope to clear herself satisfactorily. - -Prudence knew that her story was wild and improbable; her illness had -further disheartened her. She felt sure that no one would believe her on -her oath, and this conviction gave a hesitation to her manner, an -uncertainty to her statements, that branded her in the eyes of all as an -audacious but unskilful liar. - -“Come! she might ’ave told a better one than _that_!” was the whispered -remark in the gallery when, in answer to a question, she declared that -the infant handed over by her to the prisoner was her sister. - -“Do you mean your step-sister?” asked the magistrate. “She is very much -younger than you.” - -“No, sir. She is my sister. My elder sister.” - -There was a roar of laughter at this extraordinary statement. - -“Your _elder_ sister?” - -“Yes, your worship.” - -“Are your parents living?” - -“No, your worship.” - -“When did they die?” - -“My mother died sixteen years ago, my father three years later.” - -“And yet you say this infant is your elder sister?” - -“Oh, sir, my lord, your worship,” said the weeping Prudence, “I assure -you I am speaking the truth. I know I can’t expect anyone to believe me, -but indeed it is true.” - -There was movement and merriment at the solicitors’ table, and a voice -said in a whisper, - -“Queer delusion! Mad as a hatter!” - -Prudence heard the words, and drew herself up with some dignity. - -“No,” she said, “I am not mad; it is no delusion. Will you allow me to -make a plain statement, your worship? The child I handed to that wicked -woman is my sister, and is older than I. We bought a bottle of the Water -of Youth that we saw advertised in the _Lady’s Pictorial_. She should -have drunk very little, but unfortunately she took an overdose, and you -may believe me or not, but I found her changed into the infant you see -in the middle of that same night.” - -A roar of laughter drowned her words. - -The counsel for the prosecution was very stern. - -“I do not know, madam,” he said, “what may be the state of your mind, -though I should advise your relatives to have it enquired into, but we -cannot have the time of the court taken up in listening to such -ridiculous and impossible statements. Remember, please, that you are on -your oath, and give truthful replies to the questions put.” - -“I am speaking the truth,” wailed Prudence. She was desperate, careless -of consequences, driven into a corner. “You may put me in prison if you -like, but I can say nothing else. My sister bought the Water from a Mrs. -Geldheraus, of 194, Handel Street, on the 27th of June last, at three -o’clock in the afternoon. She took a dose of it that same night, broke -the bottle, I think, by accident, and unwilling to lose the wonderful -water—at least, so I conclude, for I was not present—drank up all that -was left. I heard her crying in the night, and found her turned into a -baby. I could not keep her at the boarding-house, for the sake of my own -good name. Everyone was prying and questioning about her, so I gave her -to the prisoner to take care of, believing that she was a good and -honest woman.” - -“And where is this Mrs. Geldheraus now? Does she know you? Can she give -any evidence as to your mental condition?” - -“Alas!” said Prudence, weeping profusely, though even the prisoner at -the bar wore an incredulous grin, “she has gone away to Paris. She was -on the point of leaving London when my sister called on her.” - -The counsel for the prosecution looked triumphantly at the magistrate. -The woman was an absolute Bedlamite. No mere liar would invent so lame, -so preposterous a story. - -“You may stand down,” he said abruptly. - -“Please may I say one word?” asked the distressed witness. She looked -full at the magistrate. He was a soft-hearted man, and something in her -pathetic, tear-stained face touched him. - -“Well,” he said, “what is it? You must be brief.” - -“Would you mind having my sister—the child—brought forward?” - -The woman in charge of Augusta stood up, and exhibited the quaint, -weird-eyed infant. - -At sight of her an extraordinary change came over the face of good Mrs. -Brown. She whispered eagerly and excitedly to the barrister engaged for -the defence, pointing at Augusta, and accenting her remarks by beating -her closed fist on the edge of the dock. - -In a moment he was on his feet. - -“Your worship! On behalf of my client, I beg to say she disclaims all -responsibility for the child now produced in court. She knows nothing -about it, and has never seen it in her life before. She desires me to -say that the baby committed to her care by this lady was evidently under -a month old. I appeal to every mother in court if that child is not -between two and three years of age at the least.” - -Great excitement followed this statement. - -“Is that the child you gave her, or is it not?” asked the magistrate. - -“Yes, my lord—your worship, I mean—that is the child, my sister, I’d -know her anywhere. Her eyes are the same, and she always had that little -wart on her forehead—but she looks bigger, certainly.” - -Sal vehemently protested from the dock. - -“Your worship,” said her counsel, “I emphatically deny that that is the -child. The witness has already shown herself unworthy of belief, and has -tried to palm off a ridiculous cock-and-bull story on the court. As men -of the world, we can all see her motive for that, but what her reason -for insisting that this child, which is quite two years older than the -other, is hers, I confess I do not understand.” - -“Is this the child that was placed in your care?” asked the magistrate -of the workhouse matron. - -“Yes, your worship. They was all identified wen they was brought into -the ’ouse, and I put a kyard on each with its given name. This ’ere -child is Augusta, or some such name. She ’as never been out of my -keeping since.” - -“How old was she supposed to be at the time?” - -“Three weeks or a month, I b’lieve, yer wusshup, though I do think -now”—doubtfully—“she looks a deal older than that; but the light wasn’t, -so to say, good when she was brought in.” - -“This is very extraordinary,” said the magistrate. “Who gave particulars -as to the child’s apparent age?” - -“The prisoner, I b’lieve, yer wushup, an’ two of her neighbours that -identified the children, and gave the names by which they was known.” - -“Let me look at it.” - -Augusta was held up for the magistrate’s nearer inspection. - -“Well,” said he, hesitatingly, “I’m not much of a judge of babies, but -that child does seem to me to be quite three years old. When was she -born?” he asked Prudence. - -“Fifty-three years ago—on the 21st of April, 18—.” - -Another roar of laughter greeted this reply, but the magistrate was -annoyed. The woman was too ridiculous, for it was easy to see she was -not as mad as she pretended. - -“Madam,” he said severely, “you must be aware of the impression I have -formed with regard to the ridiculous story you have thought fit to tell, -and I would warn you, in your own interests, to remember that it is -advisable to speak the truth.” - -At any other time, his stern tone and frowning brows would have -frightened poor Prudence out of such little wits as she possessed. Now, -however, she seemed to be paying no attention, but, with dilated eyes, -kept staring at Augusta, who was certainly conducting herself in a very -extraordinary fashion. To the dismay of the nurse, she was bending, -wriggling, and stretching in her arms. - -As the magistrate ceased speaking, there was a sudden sound of rent -material, a shower of buttons flew about the heads of the junior -counsel, and Augusta’s sloppy workhouse frock and pinafore, that had -been gradually tightening to bursting point, split explosively up the -back and sleeves. - -“Look, look!” cried Prudence, in a fever of anxiety. “It is passing off. -I told you so. She is growing older. Oh! wait a little, your worship. -Before long perhaps she will be able to speak. She will confirm what -I’ve told you. Augusta dear, for heaven’s sake, speak if you can. They -don’t believe me.” - -The nurse, with alarm depicted on every feature, and drops of -perspiration standing on her brow, gave up her efforts to hold the -child, whose weight had increased amazingly, and put her sitting on the -bench beside her, watching her the while with undisguised trepidation. - -Everyone saw that something extraordinary was going on. Augusta choked, -whooped, gurgled, turned red and spotty, purple and white, alternately. -She seemed passing every minute through months of childish growth, -long-past croups, convulsions, measles, and so forth, sweeping over her -in flashes, as she began once more her painful, and in this case, rapid, -journey towards maturity. - -The public in the gallery rose _en masse_. Business was a standstill. -The juniors stood on benches. The magistrate, bewildered and confounded -at the unexpected turn of events, wiped his spectacles with the air of a -man who sees the end of all things. - -The women round the children were rigid with fright, and dared not lay a -finger on the prodigy. The matron was the first to recover. Her sense of -propriety awoke, and rapidly taking off her long cloak, she passed it -round the struggling, elderly child, who each instant was outgrowing her -garments more and more. - -“Oh! speak, Augusta, do speak if you can!” implored Prudence. - -“Don’t you see I’m trying to?” replied Augusta, suddenly and sharply, in -a clear, childish treble. “Of course what you said is true, though, as -usual, you have said a great many things you were not called on to tell. -I did take an overdose of that dreadful stuff, and now the effect is -passing off, I am in great agony, as anyone might see, and will you -please take me away at once? This is a most disagreeable position for a -lady. Call a cab and take me away; what I have suffered in that woman’s -clutches no tongue can tell.” - -The magistrate turned pale, Sal Brown shrank into the farthest corner of -the prisoner’s dock, and, with a scared face, listened to the words of -her rapidly-developing _protégé_. Beneath the matron’s ample cloak the -form of Augusta was waxing ever longer and wider, like the melon plant -beneath the cloth of an Eastern juggler. - -“I think, madam,” said the magistrate in broken accents, “you had better -take the—it home.” - -“Your worship,” hastily interposed the counsel for the prosecution, -“this child, I mean lady, is a valuable witness for us. I propose that -before she is permitted to leave the precincts of this court she shall -be examined. The examination shall be as brief as possible. I suppose -she understands the nature of an oath?” - -“Of course I do. I understand everything, but really cannot undergo -examination now,” said Augusta squeakily but crossly. “I do not feel -able for it to-day. Some other time I shall have no objection to put -your worship in possession of the facts of my compulsory residence with -Mrs. Brown. There are also certain circumstances in connection with the -workhouse management of infants that I should like to bring before you. -At present, however, I must beg leave to retire, and seek that repose I -so much need.” - -“Well, in all my experience,” said the magistrate solemnly, “I never -heard or imagined such a case as this; it is quite unprecedented. I -really am at a loss how to act. To my mind, the best course is to grant -another remand, to admit of the appearance of the child—a—I mean lady, -in the witness box. I think what she says is reasonable. Under the -extraordinary circumstances, we could barely expect her to give evidence -to-day. She must be shaken by her unparalleled experiences. As for you, -madam,” he continued, addressing Prudence, who was still weeping -hysterically, “I must express my regret for having doubted what I now -perceive to have been a truthful and unvarnished narrative. My excuse -must be that your sister’s experience has been so exceptional, that -neither I nor anyone who heard it could be expected to believe it -without positive confirmation. This has been unexpectedly supplied, and -I think I may say you leave this court without the smallest suspicion on -your _bonâ fides_.” - -There was a round of applause from the gallery, instantly suppressed, -and Prudence, weeping, blushing, smiling, and bridling, all at the same -time, walked out of court with the shivering Augusta. - -By this time the latter had assumed the appearance of a girl about -eight, with bare feet, and toes to which still adhered the rent -fragments of a baby’s knitted woollen bootees. The news had spread, and -a dense crowd had collected at the door of the police court to see them -pass. Prudence drew back terrified at the sight, and a friendly -policeman, seeing her agitation, summoned a cab to a side door, and -placed the sisters in it. As they drove off, the baulked and excited -crowd perceived them, and a tremendous round of cheering woke the echoes -of Arrow Street. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - CONCLUSION. - - -Of our story little remains to tell. Augusta was driven to her sister’s -lodgings and put to bed. In less than twenty-four hours she had arrived -once more at the time of life she had temporarily abandoned. Her -experience had been a disappointment, but her intense relief in feeling -that she was once more in command of the helm, prevented her dwelling on -that. It was delightful to array herself once more in her own clothes, -to be no longer a helpless infant, pinched, tweaked, starved, insulted -to her face. The joy of being able to speak was in itself so intense -that Miss Semaphore was in a constant flow of good humour, and in all -her experience of her sister, Prudence never had so good a time. - -After the first excitement had cooled down, she feared that Augusta -would be morose, soured by the failure of her experiment; but no. She -seemed to find perennial satisfaction in contrasting her present state -with that she had so unwillingly endured. The great drawback to her -happiness was the notoriety given to her case. Three times the sisters -had to change lodgings, because of the curiosity they excited amongst -their neighbours, and the crowds that collected to watch them pass in or -out. - -When the trial came on the following week, Arrow Street was crowded to -suffocation. All the boarders from Beaconsfield Gardens were once more -in the front row, and unbounded interest was excited by the evidence of -Prudence. The papers were full of the circumstances. The _Daily -Telegraph_ published a leader on it, would-be interviewers made the life -of the sisters a misery. Their supposed portraits, horrible caricatures -that their own mother would have failed to recognise, appeared in the -halfpenny evening papers. The sixpenny weeklies sent artists to sketch -them as they sat in court. The medical press took the matter up. Samples -of the Water of Youth were called for to be analysed, but without avail, -since Mrs. Geldheraus and her mysterious potion had disappeared into the -_Ewigkeit_. - -Never were inoffensive and obscure women dragged so suddenly into -notoriety. A wax model of Augusta was set up at Madame Tussaud’s, and -the baby clothes she was wearing when taken to the workhouse were shown -in a glass case. She netted £700 by their sale, which she looked on as -in a measure compensatory for her outlay on the Water. The devotion of -Prudence to her sister was everywhere commented on. She became quite a -popular personage, and to her surprise and delight, received no less -than five offers of marriage from persons totally unknown to her. - -While their interest in the case was unabated, the medical woman, Mrs. -Whitley, Mrs. Dumaresq, and the other boarders, felt somewhat shy of -making any advances to the sisters. Soft, and gentle, and foolish, as -Prudence was, they felt that she could not and would not forgive their -impertinent curiosity and interference; and yet there was much to excuse -their conduct, for such cases as Miss Semaphore’s are rare. When the -sisters were finally making their way out of court, having heard good -Mrs. Brown condemned to a term of six months imprisonment with hard -labour, Major Jones, however, rushed forward, and with a profound sweep -of his hat, requested permission to escort them to the hansom in -waiting. He did not say “good-bye” until he had asked for and obtained -leave to call on them, a privilege of which he henceforth took frequent -advantage. - -There is an opinion afloat, this time not merely in the mind of Prudence -herself, but in the minds of the boarders at Beaconsfield Gardens, that -the younger Miss Semaphore will before long be requested to change her -name. Since her painful experience, her character has developed. She is -more self-reliant, steadier, less unduly girlish in her ways and dress, -and seems likely, if her mature love affair runs smooth, to make an -excellent wife for the Major. Should her future, as it promises, prove -happier than her past, she, for one, despite the mental agony she -struggled through, will not regret the temporary rejuvenation of Miss -Semaphore. - - * * * * * - - _Jarrold and Sons, Printers, Norwich, Yarmouth and London._ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Popular 6d. Books. - - - BLACK BEAUTY: The Autobiography of a Horse. By ANNA - SEWELL. Millions of copies have been sold. - - CHERRY RIPE. By HELEN MATHERS, Author of “Comin’ - thro’ the Rye.” Copyright Edition. - - THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB. By FERGUS HUME. 391st - Thousand. - - WE THREE AND TRODDLES: A Comic Side of London Life. - By R. ANDOM, Author of “Martha and I,” etc. - Illustrated by ALEC CARRUTHERS GOULD. 62nd - Thousand. - - THE REJUVENATION OF MISS SEMAPHORE. A Farcical - Novel. By HAL GODFREY, 30th Thousand. - - GILES’S TRIP TO LONDON. 222nd Thousand. - - THE COMIC SIDE OF SCHOOL LIFE. - - BEFORE JOSEPH CAME INTO EGYPT. - - THE TRANSVAAL BOER SPEAKING FOR HIMSELF. - - * * * * * - - _LONDON_: - - _JARROLD & SONS, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C._ - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - - 2. 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