a
public-house where he is known, will dismiss the cab at the door, and
will go out again by a back way which is only used by the landlord and
his friends.--L. G."

3. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_.

"Diana Street, 10 o'clock.

"MY DEAR LYDIA--You have written me a heartless letter. If you had been
in my trying position, harassed as I was when I wrote to you, I should
have made allowances for my friend when I found my friend not so sharp
as usual. But the vice of the present age is a want of consideration
for persons in the decline of life. Morally speaking, you are in a sad
state, my dear; and you stand much in need of a good example. You shall
have a good example--I forgive you.

"Having now relieved my mind by the performance of a good action,
suppose I show you next (though I protest against the vulgarity of the
expression) that I _can_ see a little further than my poor old nose?

"I will answer your question about the house-maid first. You may trust
her implicitly. She has had her troubles, and has learned discretion.
She also looks your age; though it is only her due to say that, in
this particular, she has some years the advantage of you. I inclose the
necessary directions which will place her entirely at your disposal.

"And what comes next?

"Your plan for joining me at Bayswater comes next. It is very well
as far as it goes; but it stands sadly in need of a little judicious
improvement. There is a serious necessity (you shall know why presently)
for deceiving the parson far more completely than you propose to deceive
him. I want him to see the house-maid's face under circumstances
which will persuade him that it is _your_ face. And then, going a
step further, I want him to see the house-maid leave London, under
the impression that he has seen _you_ start on the first stage of
your journey to the Brazils. He didn't believe in that journey when I
announced it to him this afternoon in the street. He may believe in it
yet, if you follow the directions I am now going to give you.

"To-morrow is Saturday. Send the housemaid out in your walking dress of
to-day, just as you propose; but don't stir out yourself, and don't go
near the window. Desire the woman to keep her veil down, to take half an
hour's walk (quite unconscious, of course, of the parson or his servant
at her heels), and then to come back to you. As soon as she appears,
send her instantly to the open window, instructing her to lift her vei