m Gwen had received, that had sent
her off on this wild journey to London in the small hours of the
morning, was this that follows, neither more nor less:

"On no account come. Why run risks? You will not be admitted. Never
mind what Dr. Dalrymple says.--CLOTILDA."

Just conceive this young lady off in such a mad way when it was
perfectly clear what had happened! She might at least have waited until
she received the letter this message had so manifestly outraced; Dr.
Dalrymple's letter, certain to come by the first post in the morning.
And she would have waited, no doubt, if she had not been Gwen. Being
Gwen, her first instinct was to get away before that letter came,
enjoining caution, and deprecating panic, and laying stress on this,
that, and the other--a parcel of nonsense all with one object, to
counsel pusillanimousness, to inspire trepidation. She knew that would
be the upshot. She knew also that Dr. Dalrymple would play double,
frightening her from coming, while assuring the patient that he had
vouched for the entire absence of danger and the mildness of the type of
the disorder, whatever it was. It would never do for Clotilda to know
that she--Gwen--was being kept away, for safety's sake. That was the sum
and substance of her reflections. And the inference was clear:--Push her
way on to Cavendish Square, and push her way in, if necessary!

A thought crossed her mind as the train whirled away from Grantley
Station. Suppose it was smallpox, and she should catch it and have her
beauty spoiled! Well--in that case an ill wind would blow _somebody_
good! Her darling blind man would never see it. Let us be grateful for
middle-sized mercies!

CHAPTER VIII

HOW THAT WIDOW GOT THE "OLD CAT" AWAY TO STRIDES COTTAGE. MR.
BRANTOCK'S HORSE. ELIZABETH-NEXT-DOOR, AND THE BIT OF FIRE SHE
MADE. HOW TOFT THE GIPSY SPOTTED A LIKENESS, AND REPAIRED THE GLASS
TOBY HAD AIMED AT. HOW OLD MAISIE'S ACQUAINTANCE WITH HER DAUGHTER
GREW TO FRIENDSHIP. AND HER DAUGHTER SHOWED HER GRANDFATHER'S MILL.
HOW COULD THIS MILL BE YOUR GRANDFATHER'S, WHEN IT WAS MY FATHER'S?
BUT SEE HOW SMALL IT WAS! TWO ARMS LONG, FIFTY YEARS AGO! AND
NOW!... A RESTLESS WAKING AND A DARING EXCURSION. ONLY THE
HOUSE-DOG ABOUT! ON THE FENDER! SEE THERE--AN ARM AND A HALF LONG
ONLY--IN FACT, LESS!

Old Maisie waked late, and no wonder! Or, more properly, she slept late,
and had to be waked. Mrs