to be had, checked her tradesmen's books, and
wrote her cards of invitation, all for the sake
of an occasional lift in her ladyship's carriage,
and the pleasure of talking to her friends in
Holloway about her "dear friend Lady Milson."
Sir John hated Mrs. Morris. She was always
in his way. If he wanted to have a quiet evening
at home, he was sure to find, on coming
back from the club at seven o'clock, that Mrs.
Morris had invited herself—or had remained so
late that Lady Milson could not help asking
her—to remain to dinner, when her thin sour
face and her fawning manner to his wife made
his wine taste hot, and his soup feel cold. Mrs.
Morris had quite wit enough to see that, although
Annie liked her for petty services rendered, Sir
John hated her, and that were it not for this
she would have been asked much oftener
to the house—that is, asked in a more gratifying
and substantial manner; for, as it was, she
went there often enough, but in a back-stairs
sort of way. Knowing as she did that Sir John
disliked her, she determined, if ever opportunity
offered, to create a misunderstanding between
him and his wife. The occasion came sooner than
she had dared to hope for. Going one morning
to an Oxford-street shop to match some silk
for Lady Milson, Mrs. Morris thought fit
at luncheon-time to turn into that well-
known place of refreshment for ladies a few
doors on the Pantheon side of the Circus.
When she entered, there were, as usual,
several persons busy with the business of
luncheon, and amongst them, seated at one of
the small tables, was Sir John, in earnest
conversation with a lady. The gentleman did not
see his wife's toady, and the latter took a seat
behind him, where she could hear all that was
passing, without herself being seen. To her
intense disgust, she found that Sir John and the
lady were talking in French, of which language
she did not understand a single word, and,
therefore, all her manoeuvres to find out what they
were speaking about were in vain. She was
not, however, to be put off aiming the blow
she intended at Sir John, and that very
evening told Lady Milson that she had seen
her husband in close confab with a young and
very good-looking lady who spoke in French.
The governess was fifty if she was a day, and
"plain at that," as an American backwoodsman
would say. Annie had never in her life
felt what it was to be jealous, for Sir John had
never given her the slightest occasion for being
so. At first she would not believe a word
of what Mrs. Morris told her. Her husband
was fifty-six years of age; they had been
married more than a quarter of a century;
was it likely that at his age he would make
appointments to meet ladies at confectioners'
shops? She told her toady that there must
be some mistake, and that it was impossible
that the gentleman she saw could have been
Sir John. But Mrs. Morris insisted upon
her story being true, and so at last Annie
half believed her. That evening Sir John
happened to be dining with some old Indian
brother-officers at the club, and did not come
home until Mrs. Morris had left his house.
When he returned, his wife told him what she
had heard, but in a sort of half-joking way, as
if she did not quite believe it, which she did not.
Sir John was too old a soldier to fly when he
knew the enemy was behind him, so he put a
bold face on the affair, and declared that it was
quite true. An elderly lady, he said, had
spoken to him in Oxford-street, and asked him
in French how she could find her way back to
Islington, from whence she had come. She
did not speak a word of English, and so he had
taken her into the confectioner's, ordered her
some refreshment, procured her a cab, and then
sent her on her way rejoicing. The next time
he saw his enemy, he asked her why she had not
come forward and spoken to him in the
luncheon-room, and Mrs. Morris saw that for
this time at any rate she was checkmated.

But Sir John's troubles, or rather his fear
of troubles and scandal, did not end here.
Before long it became perfectly known in
the neighbourhood of the house he had
taken who it was that had rented the place,
and, accordingly, prospectuses and cards from
cheap furniture shops, from wine-merchants,
coal-merchants, grocers, butchers, bakers, livery-
stable keepers, and every sort and condition of
tradesman, came pouring in upon him. Some of
these were sent to his club, others to his house,
and Annie wondered not a little why
shopkeepers in South Kensington should all of a
sudden want to supply goods to a house in
Tyburnia, or why those persons should imagine
that she was going to change her tradesmen.
How often Sir John anathematised the absurd
whim of his friend, who had enjoined him that
no one, not even Annie, should be told the
secret of the two girls coming home! All day
and every day he was in fever—not that Lady
Milson should discover all about the girls,
for nothing would have pleased him better if
she could have done so without his having in
any way helped her to the knowledge, but
lest some letter, some gossiping newsmonger,
or some mischief-making busy-body should
induce his wife to believe that he was carrying
on some intimacy which he did not wish her to
know of.

At last, the usual telegram appeared in the
papers, announcing that the Calcutta mails had
arrived at Alexandria, and that they might be
expected at Marseilles upon such a date, and at
Southampton so many days afterwards. Ten
days later and the news was flashed by the
wires from Gibraltar that the P. and O.
Company's steamer, the Ripon, had put in there,
had coaled, and passed on towards Southampton.
The next day—he trumped up some
fable by which Annie was induced to believe he
had run over to Paris to meet an old friend—
Sir John found himself engaging a sitting-room
and three bedrooms at the hotel at Southampton,
for himself and his two expected charges.
The steamer was true to its time, as the boats of
the P. and 0. Company almost invariably are, and