ell gasp, as if he were inhaling the poison of some foul sick-room.

He made but a slight inroad into the cold mutton that adorned the
tea-table, and confessed that he felt rather 'done up' by the weather
and the day's work.

'I have had a trying day, too,' said Mary. 'Alice has been very queer
and troublesome all day, and I have had to speak to her quite seriously.
You know I think her Sunday evenings out have a rather unsettling
influence on the girl. But what is one to do?'

'Has she got a young man?'

'Of course: a grocer's assistant from the Goldhawk Road--Wilkin's, you
know. I tried them when we settled here, but they were not very
satisfactory.'

'What do they do with themselves all the evening? They have from five to
ten, haven't they?'

'Yes; five, or sometimes half-past, when the water won't boil. Well, I
believe they go for walks usually. Once or twice he has taken her to the
City Temple, and the Sunday before last they walked up and down Oxford
Street, and then sat in the Park. But it seems that last Sunday they
went to tea with his mother at Putney. I should like to tell the old
woman what I really think of her.'

'Why? What happened? Was she nasty to the girl?'

'No; that's just it. Before this, she has been very unpleasant on
several occasions. When the young man first took Alice to see her--that
was in March--the girl came away crying; she told me so herself. Indeed,
she said she never wanted to see old Mrs. Murry again; and I told Alice
that, if she had not exaggerated things, I could hardly blame her for
feeling like that.'

'Why? What did she cry for?'

'Well, it seems that the old lady--she lives in quite a small cottage in
some Putney back street--was so stately that she would hardly speak. She
had borrowed a little girl from some neighbour's family, and had managed
to dress her up to imitate a servant, and Alice said nothing could be
sillier than to see that mite opening the door, with her black dress and
her white cap and apron, and she hardly able to turn the handle, as
Alice said. George (that's the young man's name) had told Alice that it
was a little bit of a house; but he said the kitchen was comfortable,
though very plain and old-fashioned. But, instead of going straight to
the back, and sitting by a big fire on the old settle that they had
brought up from the country, that child asked for their names (did you
ever hear such nonsense?) and showed them into a little poky parlour,