d to treasure the flower and keep it in water, until the
hot and gassy atmosphere of his dressing-room killed it. Once or twice
she called him Lionel, by way of pretty inadvertence.

There came an afternoon when the fog that had lain all day over London
deepened and deepened until in the evening the streets were become
almost impassable. The various members of the company, setting out in
good time, managed to reach the theatre--though there were breathless
accounts of adventures and escapes as this one or that hurried through
the wings and down into the dressing-room corridor; but the public, not
being paid to come forth on such a night, for the most part preferred
the snugness and safety of their own homes, so that the house was but
half filled, and the faces of the scant audience were more dusky than
ever--were almost invisible--beyond the blaze of the footlights. And as
the performance proceeded, Miss Burgoyne professed to become more and
more alarmed. Dreadful reports came in from without. All traffic was
suspended. It was scarcely possible to cross a street. Even the
policemen, familiar with the thoroughfares, hardly dared leave the
pavement to escort a bewildered traveller to the other side.

When Lionel, having dressed for the last act, went into Miss Burgoyne's
room, he found her (apparently) very much perturbed.

"Have you heard? It's worse than ever!" she called to him from the inner
apartment.

"So they say."

"Whatever am I to do?" she exclaimed, her anxiety proving too much for
her grammar.

"Well, I think you couldn't do better than stop where you are," Harry
Thornhill made answer, carelessly.

"Stop where I am? It's impossible! My brother Jim would go frantic. He
would make sure I was run over or drowned or something, and be off to
the police-stations."

"Oh, no, he wouldn't? he wouldn't stir out on such a night, if he had
any sense."

"Not if he thought his sister was lost? That's all you know. There are
some people who do have a little affection in their nature," said Miss
Burgoyne, as she drew aside the curtain and came forth, and went to the
tall glass. "But surely I can get a four-wheeled cab, Mr. Moore? I will
give the man a sovereign to take me safe home. And even then it will be
dreadful. I get so frightened in a bad fog--absolutely terrified--and
especially at night. Supposing the man were to lose his way? Or he might
be drunk? I wish I had asked Jim to come down for me. There's Miss