ing of the servants up at the house.' Who the letter was written
to I can't tell you: it must have been a mortal long one, judging by the
time she stopped up-stairs over it. I offered her a postage-stamp when
she came down. She hadn't got the letter in her hand, and she didn't
accept the stamp. A little close, poor soul (as you know), about herself
and her doings. But a friend she has got somewhere, I can tell you; and
to that friend you may depend upon it, she will go."

"Soon?" asked the Sergeant.

"As soon as she can." says Mrs. Yolland.

Here I stepped in again from the door. As chief of my lady's
establishment, I couldn't allow this sort of loose talk about a servant
of ours going, or not going, to proceed any longer in my presence,
without noticing it.

"You must be mistaken about Rosanna Spearman," I said. "If she had been
going to leave her present situation, she would have mentioned it, in
the first place, to _me_."

"Mistaken?" cries Mrs. Yolland. "Why, only an hour ago she bought some
things she wanted for travelling--of my own self, Mr. Betteredge, in
this very room. And that reminds me," says the wearisome woman, suddenly
beginning to feel in her pocket, "of something I have got it on my mind
to say about Rosanna and her money. Are you either of you likely to see
her when you go back to the house?"

"I'll take a message to the poor thing, with the greatest pleasure,"
answered Sergeant Cuff, before I could put in a word edgewise.

Mrs. Yolland produced out of her pocket, a few shillings and sixpences,
and counted them out with a most particular and exasperating carefulness
in the palm of her hand. She offered the money to the Sergeant, looking
mighty loth to part with it all the while.

"Might I ask you to give this back to Rosanna, with my love and
respects?" says Mrs. Yolland. "She insisted on paying me for the one or
two things she took a fancy to this evening--and money's welcome enough
in our house, I don't deny it. Still, I'm not easy in my mind about
taking the poor thing's little savings. And to tell you the truth,
I don't think my man would like to hear that I had taken Rosanna
Spearman's money, when he comes back to-morrow morning from his work.
Please say she's heartily welcome to the things she bought of me--as
a gift. And don't leave the money on the table," says Mrs. Yolland,
putting it down suddenly before the Sergeant, as if it burnt her
fingers--"don't, there's a good man! For times