ned.

"Not another stroke of work do you do in my house, Mary Ann!" Then there
was silence, save for the thumping of his own heart. What had happened?

He heard Mrs. Leadbatter mounting the kitchen stairs, wheezing and
grumbling: "Well, of all the sly little things!"

Mary Ann had been discovered. His blood ran cold at the thought. The
silly creature had been unable to keep the secret.

"Not a word about 'im all this time. Oh, the sly little thing. Who
would hever a-believed it?"

And then, in the intervals of Mrs. Leadbatter's groanings, there came to
him the unmistakable sound of Mary Ann sobbing--violently, hysterically.
He turned from cold to hot in a fever of shame and humiliation. How had
it all come about? Oh yes, he could guess. The gloves! What a fool he
had been! Mrs. Leadbatter had unearthed the box. Why did he give her
more than the pair that could always be kept hidden in her pocket? Yes,
it was the gloves. And then there was the canary. Mrs. Leadbatter had
suspected he was leaving her for a reason. She had put two and two
together, she had questioned Mary Ann, and the ingenuous little idiot had
naively told her he was going to take her with him. It didn't really
matter, of course; he didn't suppose Mrs. Leadbatter could exercise any
control over Mary Ann, but it was horrible to be discussed by her and
Rosie; and then there was that meddlesome vicar, who might step in and
make things nasty.

Mrs. Leadbatter's steps and wheezes and grumblings had arrived in the
passage, and Lancelot hastily stole back into his room, his heart
continuing to flutter painfully.

He heard the complex noises reach his landing, pass by, and move up
higher. She wasn't coming in to him, then. He could endure the suspense
no longer; he threw open his door and said, "Is there anything the
matter?"

Mrs. Leadbatter paused and turned her head.

"His there anything the matter!" she echoed, looking down upon him. "A
nice thing when a woman's troubled with hastmer, and brought 'ome 'er
daughter to take 'er place, that she should 'ave to start 'untin' afresh!"

"Why, is Rosie going away?" he said, immeasurably relieved.

"My Rosie! She's the best girl breathing. It's that there Mary Ann!"

"Wh-a-t!" he stammered. "Mary Ann leaving you?"

"Well, you don't suppose," replied Mrs. Leadbatter angrily, "as I can
keep a gel in my kitchen as is a-goin' to 'ave 'er own nors-end-kerridge!"

"Her own horse and ca