petticoats!"

"You may say that, Mr. Eames. And then her mother! Her mother is not
so bad. Her mother is different. But the mother is an odious woman,
too. It was an evil day for Maria Clutterbuck when she first saw
either the mother or the daughter. I tell you that in confidence."

"But what can I do?" said Johnny, who began to be startled and almost
interested by the eagerness of the woman.

"I'll tell you what you can do. Don't let your friend go to Mr
Broughton's house to paint the picture. If he does do it, there will
be mischief come of it. Of course you can prevent him."

"I should not think of trying to prevent him unless I knew why."

"She's a nasty proud minx, and it would set her up ever so high,--to
think that she was being painted by Mr. Dalrymple! But that isn't the
reason. Maria would get into terrible trouble about it, and there
would be no end of mischief. I must not tell you more now, and if you
do not believe me, I cannot help it. Surely, Mr. Eames, my word may be
taken as going for something? And when I ask you to help me in this,
I do expect that you will not refuse me." By this time Miss Demolines
was sitting close to him, and had more than once put her hand upon
his arm in the energy of her eloquence. Then as he remembered that he
had never seen Miss Demolines till the other day, or Miss Van Siever,
or even Mrs. Dobbs Broughton, he bethought himself that it was all
very droll. Nevertheless he had no objection to Miss Demolines
putting her hand upon his arm.

"I never like to interfere in anything that does not seem to be my
own business," said Johnny.

"Is not your friend's business your own business? What does
friendship mean if it not so? And when I tell you that it is my
business, mine of right, does that go for nothing with you? I thought
I might depend upon you, Mr. Eames; I did indeed." Then again she put
her hand upon his arm, and as he looked into her eyes he began to
think that after all she was good-looking in a certain way. At any
rate she had fine eyes, and there was something picturesque about the
entanglement of her hair. "Think of it, and then come back and talk
to me again," said Miss Demolines.

"But I am going out of town to-morrow."

"For how long?"

"For ten days."

"Nothing can be done during that time. Clara Van Siever is going away
in a day, and will not be back for three weeks. I happen to know
that; so we have plenty of time for working. It would be very
des