imself in the little dark parlour, and was
looking round and thinking of Glory. "No matter; my business is with you,
Mrs. Jupe," he answered, and at that the twinkling eyes and fat cheeks,
which had been doing their best to smile, took on a look of fear.

"Wot's the metter?" she asked, and she closed the door to the shop.

"Nothing, I trust, my good woman," and then he explained his errand.

Mrs. Jupe listened attentively and seemed to be asking herself who had
sent him.

"The poor young mother is dead now, as you may know, and----"

"But the father ain't," said the woman sharply, "and, begging your
parding, sir, if 'e wants ter know where the byeby is 'e can come 'isself
and not send sembody else!"

"If the child is well, my good woman, and well cared for----"

"It _is_ well keered for, and it's gorn to a pusson I can trust."

"Then what have you got to conceal? Tell me where it is, and----"

"Not me! If it's 'is child, and 'e wants it, let 'im py for it, and
interest ep ter dite. Them swells is too fond of gettin' parsons to pull
their chestnuts out o' the fire."

"If you suppose I am here in the interests of the father, you are
mistaken, I do assure you."

"Ow, you do, do yer?"

Matters had reached this pass when the door opened and Mr. Jupe came in.
Off went his hat with a respectful salutation, but seeing the cloud on
his wife's face, he abridged his greeting. The woman's apron was at her
eyes in an instant.

"Wot's gowin' on?" he asked. John Storm tried to explain, but the woman
contented herself with crying.

"Well, it's like this, don'cher see, Father. My missis is that fond of
childring, and it brikes 'er 'eart----"

Was the man a fool or a hypocrite?

"Mr. Jupe," said John, rising, "I'm afraid your wife has been carrying on
an improper and illegal business."

"Now stou thet, sir," said the man, wagging his head. "I respects the
Reverend Jawn Storm a good deal, but I respects Mrs. Lidjer Jupe a good
deal more, and when it comes to improper and illegal bizniss----"

"Down't mind 'im, 'Enery," said the wife, now weeping audibly.

"And down't you tyke on so, Lidjer," said the husband, and they looked as
if they were about to embrace.

John Storm could stand no more. Going down the court he was thinking with
a pang of Glory--that she had lived months in the atmosphere of that
impostor--when somebody touched his arm in the darkness. It was the girl.
She was still crying.

"I reckerlec' seei