rah, rubbing her nose hard, "in my way,
which _is_ a way. If you'd only send along your shirts, Mr. Beecot, I'd
be proud to show you what can be done with fronts, an' no thumbnails
down them to spile their loveliness."

Paul did not reply to this, but laughed absently. He was wondering if
Deborah had ever heard her master drop any hint as to his having come
from the place where Mrs. Krill resided, and asked the question on the
spur of the moment.

"Do you know Christchurch in Hants?"

Deborah rubbed her nose harder and looked at him doubtfully.

"Me as said as I'd no relatives must tell the truth now, as I 'ave,"
said she rather incoherently, "for my sister, Tilly Junk, worked for
someone in that there place for years. But we never got on well, she
being upsettin' and masterful, so arsk her to my weddin' I didn't, and
denied relatives existing, which they do, she bein' alive ten years ago
when she larst wrote."

"You have not heard from her since?" asked Paul, inquisitively.

"Sir, you may burn me or prison me or put me in pillaries," said Mrs.
Tawsey, "but deceive you I won't. Me an' Tilly not bein' of 'appy
matchin' don't correspond. We're Londing both," exclaimed Deborah,
"father 'avin' bin a 'awker, but why she went to the country, or why I
stopped in Gwynne Street, no one knows. And may I arsk, Mr. Beecot, why
you arsk of that place?"

"Your late master came from Christchurch, Mrs. Tawsey. Did you never
hear him mention it?"

"That I never did, for close he was, Mr. Beecot, say what you like. I
never knowed but what he'd pawned and sold them bookses all his blessed
life, for all the talkin' he did. If I'd ha' knowd," added Deborah,
lifting her red finger, "as he'd bin maried afore and intended to cast
out my lovely queen, I'd ha' strangled him myself."

"He had no intention of casting out Sylvia," said Paul, musingly; "he
certainly left the money to her."

"Then why 'ave that other got it?"

"Sylvia's name wasn't mentioned, and Miss Krill is legally entitled as
the legitimate daughter."

"Call her what you like, she's a cat as her mother is afore her," said
Mrs. Tawsey, indignantly, "and not young at that. Thirty and over, as
I'm a livin' woman."

"Oh, I don't think Miss Krill is as old as that."

"Being a man you wouldn't, sir, men bein' blind to wrinklings and paint.
But paint she do, the hussey, and young she ain't. Over thirty--if I die
for the sayin' of it."

"But Mrs. Krill was married to