ived in large numbers,
and secured the best places. Towards eight o'clock (the hour at which
the lecture was to begin), the sixpenny audience was still pouring in.
Rufus recognised Phoebe among the late arrivals, escorted by a person in
the dress of a gentleman, who was palpably a blackguard nevertheless. A
short stout lady followed, who warily shook hands with Rufus, and said,
"Let me introduce you to Mr. Farnaby." Mr. Farnaby's mouth and chin were
shrouded in a wrapper; his hat was over his eyebrows. Rufus observed
that he looked as if he was ashamed of himself. A gaunt, dirty, savage
old woman, miserably dressed, offered her sixpence to the moneytaker,
while the two gentlemen were shaking hands; the example, it is needless
to say, being set by Rufus. The old woman looked attentively at all
that was visible of Mr. Farnaby--that is to say, at his eyes and his
whiskers--by the gas-lamp hanging in the corridor. She instantly drew
back, though she had got her ticket; waited until Mr. Farnaby had paid
for his wife and himself, and then followed close behind them, into the
hall.

And why not? The advertisements addressed this wretched old creature as
one of the poor and discontented public. Sixteen years ago, John Farnaby
had put his own child into that woman's hands at Ramsgate, and had never
seen either of them since.

CHAPTER 3

Entering the hall, Mr. Farnaby discovered without difficulty the
position of modest retirement of which he was in search.

The cheap seats were situated, as usual, on that part of the floor of
the building which was farthest from the platform. A gallery at this end
of the hall threw its shadow over the hindermost benches and the
gangway by which they were approached. In the sheltering obscurity thus
produced, Mr. Farnaby took his place; standing in the corner formed by
the angle it which the two walls of the building met, with his dutiful
wife at his side.

Still following them, unnoticed in the crowd, the old woman stopped at
the extremity of the hindermost bench, looked close at a smartly-dressed
young man who occupied the last seat at the end, and who paid marked
attention to a pretty girl sitting by him, and whispered in his ear,
"Now then, Jervy! can't you make room for Mother Sowler?"

The man started and looked round. "You here?" he exclaimed, with an
oath.

Before he could say more, Phoebe whispered to him on the other side,
"What a horrid old creature! How did you ever come