e.

Young or old, ladies are not in the habit of sleeping with their bedroom
doors ajar. A strict sense of duty led Mrs. Presty to listen outside.
No sound like the breathing of a person asleep was to be heard. A
strict sense of duty conducted Mrs. Presty next into the room, and even
encouraged her to approach the bed on tip-toe. The bed was empty; the
clothes had not been disturbed since it had been made in the morning!

The old lady stepped out into the corridor in a state of excitement,
which greatly improved her personal appearance. She looked almost young
again as she mentally reviewed the list of vices and crimes which a
governess might commit, who had retired before eleven o'clock, and was
not in her bedroom at twelve. On further reflection, it appeared to be
barely possible that Miss Westerfield might be preparing her pupil's
exercises for the next day. Mrs. Presty descended to the schoolroom on
the first floor.

No. Here again there was nothing to see but an empty room.

Where was Miss Westerfield?

Was it within the limits of probability that she had been bold enough to
join the party in the smoking-room? The bare idea was absurd.

In another minute, nevertheless, Mrs. Presty was at the door, listening.
The men's voices were loud: they were talking politics. She peeped
through the keyhole; the smokers had, beyond all doubt, been left to
themselves. If the house had not been full of guests, Mrs. Presty would
now have raised an alarm. As things were, the fear of a possible scandal
which the family might have reason to regret forced her to act with
caution. In the suggestive retirement of her own room, she arrived at a
wise and wary decision. Opening her door by a few inches, she placed
a chair behind the opening in a position which commanded a view of
Sydney's room. Wherever the governess might be, her return to her
bed-chamber, before the servants were astir in the morning, was a chance
to be counted on. The night-lamp in the corridor was well alight; and
a venerable person, animated by a sense of duty, was a person naturally
superior to the seductions of sleep. Before taking the final precaution
of extinguishing her candle, Mrs. Presty touched up her complexion, and
resolutely turned her back on her nightcap. "This is a case in which
I must keep up my dignity," she decided, as she took her place in the
chair.

One man in the smoking-room appeared to be thoroughly weary of talking
politics. That man