very hidentical trick madam'd be in want of--'er
bein' a lydy, as you might sye--but I could put 'er in the wye of
findin' out."

"You don't think I could find out for myself?"

"You see, it's like this. I used to know a young man what everythink
went ag'in' 'im. And one dye 'e started out for to be a forgerer
like--so as 'e'd be put in jyle--and be took care of--board and
lodgin' free--and all that. Well, out 'e starts, and not knowin' the
little ins and outs, as you might sye, everythink went agin 'im, just
as it done before. And, would madam believe it? that young man 'e
hended by studying for the ministry. Madam wouldn't want to myke a
mistyke like that, now would she?"

Letty turned this over in her mind. A career parallel to that of this
young man would effect none of the results she was aiming at.

"Then what would you suggest?" she asked, at last.

"I could give madam the address of a lydy--an awful wicked lydy, she
is--what'd put madam up to all the ropes. If madam was to go out into
the cold world, like, this lydy'd give 'er a home. Besides the
address I'd give madam a sign like--so as the lydy'd know it was
somethink special."

"A sign? I don't know what you mean."

"It'd be this, madam." He drew from his pocket a small silver thimble.
"This'd be a password to the lydy. The minute she'd see it she'd know
that the time 'ad come."

"What time?"

"That's somethink madam'd find out. I couldn't explyne it
before'and."

"It sounds very queer."

"It'd _be_ very queer. Goin' to the bad is always queer. Madam
wouldn't look for it to be like 'avin' a gentleman lead 'er in to
dinner."

"What's she like--the lady?"

"That's somethink madam'd 'ave to wyte and see. She wouldn't _seem_ so
wicked, not at first sight, as you might sye. But time'd tell. If
madam'd be pytient--well, I wouldn't like to sye." He eyed the fire.
"I think that fire'll burn now, madam; and if it don't, madam'll only
'ave to ring."

He was at the door when Letty, feeling the end of all things to be at
hand, ran after him, laying her fingers on his sleeve.

"Oh, Steptoe; you've been so good to me!"

He relaxed from his dignity sufficiently to let his hand rest on hers,
which he patted gently. "I've been madam's servant--and my boy's."

"I shall never think of you as a servant--never."

The frosty color rose into his cheeks. "Then madam'll do me a great
wrong."

"To me you're so much higher than a servant----"

"Madam'll fin