he written instructions
informed the two maids of the clothing that was wanted, and directed
them to meet their mistresses in town at a given hour. Most of the other
servants were to follow. My lady had found Miss Rachel so unwilling to
return to the house, after what had happened in it, that she had decided
on going to London direct from Frizinghall. I was to remain in the
country, until further orders, to look after things indoors and out. The
servants left with me were to be put on board wages.

Being reminded, by all this, of what Mr. Franklin had said about our
being a scattered and disunited household, my mind was led naturally to
Mr. Franklin himself. The more I thought of him, the more uneasy I felt
about his future proceedings. It ended in my writing, by the Sunday's
post, to his father's valet, Mr. Jeffco (whom I had known in former
years) to beg he would let me know what Mr. Franklin had settled to do,
on arriving in London.

The Sunday evening was, if possible, duller even than the Saturday
evening. We ended the day of rest, as hundreds of thousands of people
end it regularly, once a week, in these islands--that is to say, we all
anticipated bedtime, and fell asleep in our chairs.

How the Monday affected the rest of the household I don't know. The
Monday gave ME a good shake up. The first of Sergeant Cuff's
prophecies of what was to happen--namely, that I should hear from the
Yollands--came true on that day.

I had seen Penelope and my lady's maid off in the railway with the
luggage for London, and was pottering about the grounds, when I heard
my name called. Turning round, I found myself face to face with the
fisherman's daughter, Limping Lucy. Bating her lame foot and her
leanness (this last a horrid draw-back to a woman, in my opinion), the
girl had some pleasing qualities in the eye of a man. A dark, keen,
clever face, and a nice clear voice, and a beautiful brown head of
hair counted among her merits. A crutch appeared in the list of her
misfortunes. And a temper reckoned high in the sum total of her defects.

"Well, my dear," I said, "what do you want with me?"

"Where's the man you call Franklin Blake?" says the girl, fixing me with
a fierce look, as she rested herself on her crutch.

"That's not a respectful way to speak of any gentleman," I answered. "If
you wish to inquire for my lady's nephew, you will please to mention him
as MR. Franklin Blake."

She limped a step nearer to me, and loo