kind,' she said, looking her fellow-lodger in the eyes, 'as
not to set the house on fire.'

'Oh, no fear,' he replied, with a high laugh. 'Quite accustomed. Thanks
awfully, Miss--pardon--forgotten the name.'

But Miss Rodney was back in her sitting-room, and had closed the door.

Her breakfast next morning was served by Mabel Turpin, the elder daughter,
a stupidly good-natured girl, who would fain have entered into
conversation. Miss Rodney replied to a question that she had slept well,
and added that, when she rang her bell, she would like to see Mrs. Turpin.
Twenty minutes later the landlady entered.

'You wanted me, miss?' she began, in what was meant for a voice of dignity
and reserve. 'I don't really wait on lodgers myself.'

'We'll talk about that another time, Mrs. Turpin. I wanted to say, first of
all, that you have spoiled a piece of good bacon and two good eggs. I must
trouble you to cook better than this.'

'I'm very sorry, miss, that nothing seems to suit you'

'Oh, we shall get right in time!' interrupted Miss Rodney cheerfully. 'You
will find that I have patience. Then I wanted to ask you whether your
husband and your lodger come home tipsy _every_ night, or only on
Saturdays?'

The woman opened her eyes as wide as saucers, trying hard to look
indignant.

'Tipsy, miss?'

'Well, perhaps I should have said "drunk"; I beg your pardon.'

'All I can say, miss, is that young Mr. Rawcliffe has never behaved himself
in _this_ house excepting as the gentleman he is. You don't perhaps know
that he belongs to a very high-connected family, miss, or I'm sure you
wouldn't'

'I see,' interposed Miss Rodney. 'That accounts for it. But your husband.
Is _he_ highly connected?'

'I'm sure, miss, nobody could ever say that my 'usband took too much--not
to say _really_ too much. You may have heard him a bit merry, miss, but
where's the harm of a Saturday night?'

'Thank you. Then it is only on Saturday nights that Mr. Turpin becomes
merry. I'm glad to know that. I shall get used to these little things.'

But Mrs. Turpin did not feel sure that she would get used to her lodger.
Sunday was spoilt for her by this beginning. When her husband woke from his
prolonged slumbers, and shouted for breakfast (which on this day of rest he
always took in bed), the good woman went to him with downcast visage, and
spoke querulously of Miss Rodney's behaviour.

'I _won't_ wait upon her, so there! The girls may do it, and if