an by repeating the prevalent
abuse, then, perceiving that his hearer merely gave assent in general
terms, he added:--

'I shouldn't wonder, though, if there was some reason we haven't heard
of--I mean, about the girl, you know.'

'Think so?' said the other.

'Well, I _have_ heard it said--but then one doesn't care to repeat such
things.'

'What's that, eh?' put in another man, who had caught the words.

'Oh, nothing. Only the girl's made herself scarce. Dare say the fault
wasn't altogether on one side.'

And Mr. Keene winked meaningly.

The hint spread among those on the platform. Daniel Dabbs happened to
hear it repeated in a gross form.

'Who's been a-sayin' that?' he roared. 'Where have you got that from,
eh?'

The source was already forgotten, but Daniel would not let the calumny
take its way unopposed. He harangued those about him with furious
indignation.

'If any man's got a word to say against Emma Vine, let him come an' say
it to me, that's all I Now look 'ere, all o' you, I know that girl, and
I know that anyone as talks like that about her tells a damned lie.'

'Most like it's Mutimer himself as has set it goin',' observed someone.

In five minutes all who remained in the room were convinced that Mutimer
had sent an agent to the meeting for the purpose of assailing Emma
Vine's good name. Mr. Keene had already taken his departure, and no
suspicious character was discernible; a pity for the evening might have
ended in a picturesque way.

But Daniel Dabbs went home to his brother's public-house, obtained
note-paper and an envelope, and forthwith indited a brief epistle which
he addressed to the house in Highbury. It had no formal commencement,
and ended with 'Yours, etc.' Daniel demanded an assurance that his
former friend had not instigated certain vile accusations against Emma,
and informed him that whatever answer was received would be read aloud
at next Sunday's meeting.

The one not wholly ignoble incident in that evening's transactions.

CHAPTER XVIII

In the partial reconciliation between Mrs. Mutimer and her children
there was no tenderness on either side. The old conditions could not be
restored, and the habits of the family did not lend themselves to the
polite hypocrisy which lubricates the wheels of the refined world. There
was to be a parting, and probably it would be for life. In Richard's
household his mother could never have a part, and when Alice married,
doubtless