Mabel Earnshaw," was Miss Charlewood's very
unexpected reply. " I like her spirit."

Miss Charlewood, having been successful,
could afford to admire.

CHAPTER X. " TANTÆNE ANIMIS CÆLESTIBUS
IRÆ."

Miss Fluke did not fail on the following
Saturday to pay another visit to Corda Trescott,
according to her promise; and having, in the
mean while, learned from the Charlewoods that
Mr. Trescott was employed in the orchestra of
the theatre—which fact, it may be remembered,
Mabel had not deemed it necessary to
communicate to Miss Fluke—had gone to Number
Twenty-three, New Bridge-street, for the second
time, full of zeal for the conversion of the
whole Trescott family from the error of their
ways, and likewise with a very keen curiosity
touching the terra incognita of a theatrical
life: which curiosity she was determined to
appease by a severe cross- examination of
the unconscious Corda. On this occasion,
however, she was doomed to disappointment on
both points; for, on reaching Corda' s home, she
found that the child had been taken out by her
father for a drive in a cab—supplied, Mrs.
Hutchins volunteered to explain, by the liberality
of Mr. Clement Charlewood.

"And I must say it credits him greatly,"
said Mrs. Hutchins.

Miss Fluke had found Mrs. Hutchins and
her husband at dinner; but, not being troubled
with any vain scruples of delicacy, had bade
them not disturb themselves, as she didn't mind,
and would talk to them while they finished
their meal. To this polite encouragement,
Mr. Hutchins, a tall round- shouldered
dark-visaged man, with a melancholy and saturnine
expression of countenance, haa responded by
carrying his plate, knife, and fork, into the
washhouse behind the kitchen, and there finishing
his dinner in solitude without uttering one
syllable.

Miss Fluke's self-possession being quite
invulnerable as to any such slight hint, she improved
the occasion by energetically applying herself to
draw what information she could from Mrs.
Hutchins. Now that good lady had no cause
of complaint against her lodgers, nor any real
feeling of dislike towards them. Yet, had it
not been for two restraining circumstances, she
would have been willing enough to join Miss
Fluke in lamentations over their lost condition;
Mrs. Hutchins having that cast of mind that
delights in gossiping animadversion without
necessarily believing it in the least, and having a
disposition (compounded of vanity and cowardice)
to put herself in a favourable light with any
interlocutor, by falling in with the prevailing
tone of the moment. But I have said that
two restraining circumstances prevented Mrs.
Hutchins from giving way to the natural
bent of her disposition. Of these, the first
was, that her husband was still within ear-
shot; the second was, that Miss Fluke's eyes,
making their accustomed tour of inspection
round the kitchen, had unfortunately happened
to light upon number ninety-seven of Rosalba
of Naples, or the Priest, the Page, and the
Penitent.

Miss Fluke instantly pounced upon the
romance, and dragged it from beneath a dirty
tea-tray, whence it had protruded sufficiently
to reveal the title, and the upper half of a
coarse woodcut, representing Rosalba poised
upon the topmost round of the rope ladder,
with her curls streaming in a high wind, and
three ostrich feathers mysteriously unruffled by
the elements, stuck at the back ot her head.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" said Miss Fluke, clutching
at the number, and holding it aloft before
her. " Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! what is this,
Mrs. Hutchins?"

Miss Fluke pronounced her " Oh dears" with
a crescendo which had a very terrible effect.

"Well, mum," returned Mrs. Hutchins,
bridling, and feeling that she would probably be
driven to bay, " that is a perodical novel as I'm
a-taking in, in numbers."

"Ah! But," said Miss Fluke, turning full on
the landlady with startling vehemence, "you
shouldn't! Certainly not. You shouldn't on
any account whatever!"

"Well, I'm sure!" muttered Mrs. Hutcliins,
"I don't see as there's any harm in it. I'm very
fond of readin', and allus was, from a child."

"My good soul, that's all very well; but the
great question is what do you read? Don't
you see? It's of no use to tell me you're
fond of reading, because that is no excuse for
your feeding on the words of the Devil."

"Laws bless me!" cried Mrs. Hutchins, tossing
her head contemptuously: " I'm sure you
wouldn't say such nonsense as that, if you'd
ever read it."

"If I had ever read it!" said Miss Fluke,
with a spasmodic movement of her shoulders,
and her eyes very wide open. I've no time to
read anything but my Bible. And I find my
Bible sufficient."

Miss Fluke, in speaking of the Scriptures,
always said "my Bible," and laid a strong stress
on the possessive pronoun.

At this point, a smothered voice issuing from
the washhouse, demanded to know " Where the
jack-tow'l had got to?"

"My master's a cleanin' of hisself, an' I don't
believe as there's a towel there at all," said
Mrs. Hutchins, glad of the diversion, and
hurrying out of the kitchen.

"Ah! There it is!" murmured Miss Fluke,
mentally making Kosalba responsible for the
want of cleanliness and order in the household
presided over by Mrs. Hutchins. "No jack-
towel! That's what drives the labouring man
to the public-house."

Mr. Hutchins, however, emerging redolent
of yellow soap from the washhouse, was
apparently only driven on this occasion as far as
the workshop of his employer; for he left the
house with his basket of tools over his shoulder,
and a square paper cap on the top of his black
matted locks.