Not a moment would she allow Elcy to be out of her sight, for she knew that even when she herself accompanied her for a walk round the playground, the nasty impudent fellows were all up at their windows in a moment, and kept continually dropping notes of assignation done up as “_cornichons_” of sweetmeats on to her parasol as they passed. But what troubled her perhaps quite as much was, the utter absence of all weekly contributions of linen for the wash on the part of the united eight-and-forty Parisians. She had made particular inquiries on this subject of Mrs. Wewitz, just to satisfy herself whether the rumoured indifference of _la belle France_ for a change of linen was in any way founded upon truth, and when that lady assured her that though the four dozen had been in her house upwards of a fortnight not so much as a shirt front even, or a pair of socks, had they forwarded to the laundress. The cleanly Mrs. Sandboys became so horrified at the idea of a small battalion being shut up in the same house as herself, without having so much as a change of linen for two entire weeks, that she did not hesitate to tell the alarmed Mrs. Wewitz that now the warm weather was coming on, they would be sure to be having a malignant fever break out on the premises; for it was the universal opinion of the best medical authorities, that all of the most dangerous diseases arose merely from dirt—and serve the people quite right too, she said; she didn’t pity one of the nasty filthy things. But it was only for the poor young ladies’ sakes that she spoke, for most likely they’d be coming back just in the thick of it. She would only ask Mrs. Wewitz to picture to herself what the small-pox would be among sixty young ladies, the majority of whom perhaps had nothing but their good looks to depend upon for their advancement in life; besides vaccination, she must well know, was held to be of no good after seven years, and as Miss Wewitz, her daughter, didn’t receive any young ladies under that age, she might readily imagine the ravages that such a pestilence would be likely to make in such a place, and the number of poor miserable old maids that they’d have to answer for. The urgent appeals of Mrs. Sandboys took so firm a hold on the mind of Mrs. Wewitz, that she said she would do anything that Mrs. Sandboys might think best. Whereupon, that lady suggested that, as it was Monday, she should be allowed to send Ann Lightfoot up to the Frenchmen, and desire to know whether they had any “things” for the wash—at least, Mrs. Sandboys said, it would shame them into making up some bundle, however small it might be. Accordingly, Ann Lightfoot was dispatched on the errand, with strict orders to bring back the answer as quickly as possible.