onstitute a claim."

Osborn helped himself to a stiff whiskey and soda. They went back to The
Kennel Farm the next day, and though it was his habit to consume a large
number of "pegs" daily, the habit increased until there were not many
hours in the day when he was normally sure of what he was doing.

The German baths to which Lady Walderhurst had gone were nearer to
Palstrey than any one knew. They were only at a few hours' distance by
rail.

When, after a day spent in a quiet London lodging, Mrs. Cupp returned to
her mistress with the information that she had been to the house in
Mortimer Street and found that the widow who had bought the lease and
furniture was worn out with ill-luck and the uncertainty of lodgers, and
only longed for release which was not ruin, Emily cried a little for
joy.

"Oh, how I should like to be there!" she said. "It was such a dear
house. No one would ever dream of my being in it. And I need have no one
but you and Jane. I should be so safe and quiet. Tell her you have a
friend who will take it, as it is, for a year, and pay her anything."

"I won't tell her quite that, my lady," Mrs. Cupp made sagacious answer.
"I'll make her an offer in ready money down, and no questions asked by
either of us. People in her position sometimes gets a sudden let that
pays them better than lodgers. All classes has their troubles, and
sometimes a decent house is wanted for a few months, where money can be
paid. I'll make her an offer."

The outcome of which was that the widowed householder walked out of her
domicile the next morning with a heavier purse and a lighter mind than
she had known for many months. The same night, ingenuously oblivious of
having been called upon to fill the role of a lady in genteel "trouble,"
good and decorous Emily Walderhurst arrived under the cover of discreet
darkness in a cab, and when she found herself in the "best bedroom,"
which had once been so far beyond her means, she cried a little for joy
again, because the four dull walls, the mahogany dressing-table, and
ugly frilled pincushions looked so unmelodramatically normal and safe.

"It seems so home-like," she said; adding courageously, "it is a very
comfortable place, really."

"We can make it much more cheerful, my lady," Jane said, with grateful
appreciation. "And the relief makes it like Paradise." She was leaving
the room and stopped at the door. "There's not a person, black or white,
can get across the door-ma