But there's a look about
you--perhaps, though, I'd better keep on the safe side."

"I'm not one to chatter."

"I know, I know. That's why I've always took to you specially." Again
Miss Rabbit stopped. She stirred her cup of chocolate slowly.

"If it's good news," advised Gertie, "tell me. I can do with some just
now. If it's not, keep it to yourself."

"It's rather serious news, and that's why I think you ought to be told.
First of all, you must promise me, on your soul and honour, not to
breathe a word of it to anybody. Above all, not to Madame."

"I promise," she said.

"Very well then"--with a satisfied air--"it's like this." She leaned
across the marble table. "Our show is going to burst up."

The dramatic announcement over, and the appropriate ejaculation, the
correct look of amazement and despair given. Miss Rabbit warmed to her
task, and became voluble; at each new paragraph of her discourse she
exacted a fresh guarantee that the information would go no further,
that the bond of absolute secrecy should be respected. Once, she felt
it necessary to say that if the other communicated a single word of the
confidences to any third party, she, Miss Rabbit, would feel it her
duty to haunt Miss Higham to the last hour of her life. Put briefly,
the news came to this. That Madame was in financial difficulties; that
her name and address might be found in the bankruptcy list any coming
Wednesday or Saturday; that no one was likely to be stupid enough to
take over the business; that the members of the staff, men and girls,
would find themselves turned out into a cold, hard world. The drawback
of being connected with a business of a special nature like theirs was
that there existed but few of a similar nature, and these were already
fully supplied with assistants. Miss Rabbit herself intended to look
out for another berth ere the market became swamped by many
applications; with piety, she called attention to a well-known text
which said, "Go thou and do likewise." Outside the A.B.C. shop, Miss
Rabbit, in extorting thanks for her generous behaviour, demanded, once
more, a promise.

"Say it after me," she ordered. "'I will never utter a single syllable
of all this to a solitary living soul.'" Her instructions complied
with, she remarked that a great load was now taken from her mind, and
asked Gertie for advice on the point whether to go home by omnibus or
Tube railway.

The girl arrived at Praed Stree