broke into a
fresh paroxysm, shattered a few more ornaments by way of appeasing her
appetite for destruction, and plunged down among her cushions in a fit
of shrieking hysterics that brought the whole household around her.

A knock at the door--another visitor--brought Olympia out of her fit,
and turned her general rage into spite.

"Show them in--show everybody in! If they want to see how I bear it, let
the whole world come!" she cried, spreading her hands abroad.

The man who went to the door obeyed her, and brought in an old woman,
whose anxious, tired face might have won sympathy from a stone. She
entered that glittering room without excitement or any appearance of
curiosity, and when Olympia, in coarse and spiteful irony, bade her sit
down in one of the easy-chairs, she took it quietly.

"There is a young lady staying with you, madam, that I wish to see. I
think she is known by the name of Brown."

"Brown? Brown? There is no such person here. How dare you come troubling
me about her, the ingrate, the asp, the--the--"

"It may be that the young lady may still be called Yates. She bore that
name once."

"Yates? Brown? Brown? Yates? I know nothing about them. Don't go on in
that fashion, questioning; for I won't hear it! Who are you that dares
come here with such names? I do not keep a lodging-house. I am Olympia!"

"But there was a young lady here--the one I wish to see," said the old
woman, with calm persistence.

"Well, and if there was?"

"I have very urgent reasons for wishing to find her."

"Well, perhaps you will, who knows? Needles have been found in haymows,
but I wasn't the person to pick them up, and it strikes me that you
won't be more fortunate."

"But I must see this lady!"

"If you can find her, certainly; but she is not here, and never is
likely to be again--the wretch--the viper!"

"When did she leave here, madam?"

"When--when? What is that to you? Am I come to the pass that I cannot
turn a viper into the street without being questioned by every old tramp
that prowls about? I tell you the creature you call Brown--"

"Caroline Brown," said the old lady, gently.

"Well, the creature you call Caroline Brown, then, has gone from my
house forever. I neither know nor care what has become of her."

The old woman arose, and walked close to Olympia.

"You have forgotten me, Olive Brown. It is a long time since you brought
that helpless little child to me."

Olympia turned white, and,