sitting on a bed
and chatting with a game old lady. What she wanted was to mull along
here in Addington with occasional side dashes into the realms of
discontent, and plan for Jeff's well-being. "He wants to give lectures,"
said she. "To them."

The foreign contingent was always known to her and Madame Beattie as
They.

"The fool!" said Madame Beattie cheerfully. "What for?"

"To teach them to be good."

"What does he want to muddle with that for?"

"Why, Madame Beattie, you know yourself you're talking to them and
telling them things."

"But that isn't dressing 'em in Governor Winthrop's knee breeches," said
Madame Beattie, "and making Puritans of 'em. I'm just filling 'em up
with Jeff Blake, so they'll follow him and make a ringleader of him
whether he wants it or not. They'll push and push and not see they're
pushing, and before he knows it he'll be down stage, with all his
war-paint on. You never saw Jeff catch fire."

"No," said Lydia, lying. The day he took her hands and told her what she
still believed at moments--he had caught fire then.

"When he catches fire, he'll burn up whatever's at hand," said the old
lady, with relish. "Get his blood started, throw him into politics, and
in a minute we shall have him in business, and playing the old game."

"Do you want him to play the old game?" asked Lydia.

"I want him to make some money."

"To pay his creditors."

"Pay your grandmother! pay for my necklace. Lydia, I've scared her out
of her boots."

"Esther?" Lydia whispered.

Madame Beattie whispered, too, now, and a cross-light played over her
eyes.

"Yes. I've searched her room. And she knows it. She thinks I'm searching
for the necklace."

"And aren't you?"

"Bless you, no. I shouldn't find it. She's got it safely hid. But when
she finds her upper bureau drawer gone over--Esther's very
methodical--and the next day her second drawer and the next day the
shelves in her closet, why, then--"

"What then?" asked Lydia, breathless.

"Then, my dear, she'll get so nervous she'll put the necklace into a
little bag and tell me she is called to New York. And she'll take the
bag with her, if she's not prevented."

"What should prevent her? the police?"

"No, my dear, for after all I don't want the necklace so much as I want
somebody to pay me solid money for it. But when the little bag appears,
this is what I shall say to Esther, perhaps while she's on her way
downstairs to the carriage. 'Esthe