The Frenchman had scarcely had time to settle himself under the huge cover when Miss Wewitz entered the apartment hastily—saying, “A thought has just struck me, my love. You know, my dear Chutney, you are not a child, and I can speak to you as I would to a sister. Mine, my good girl, is a delicate position. You are far away from your parents, and an orphan, as it were, placed under my charge; and if anything were to happen to you your papa and mamma would never forgive me, and I’m sure I should never be able to hold my head up again. Now you know, my love, mamma has been imprudent enough to admit a number of those horrid foreigners under our roof, and you must really be aware how necessary it is, both for your and my sake, that I should take every precaution, so that there may be no possibility of your being insulted by the creatures. Now promise me, dear Miss Chutney, you’ll keep this door locked until I return. Directly it struck me that I had left you alone here, with all those men on the premises, I couldn’t go a step further until I had assured myself of your perfect safety. Now you’ll lock yourself in the moment I’ve quitted you, and not open the door again till I come back to any one, under any pretence. You’ll promise me, now—won’t you, there’s a dear girl?” Miss Chutney stood close in front of the globe, trembling lest the cover should move and discover one of the much-dreaded foreigners to be hidden beneath, and stammered out, as well as she was able under the circumstances, that she would be “sure and do as Miss Wewitz desired.” Miss Wewitz was about to take her departure, and, indeed, had closed the music-room door after her, when she suddenly opened it again, as the affrighted Miss Chutney jumped once more in front of the heavenly sphere. “Oh!” exclaimed the schoolmistress, “upon second thoughts, my dear child, I should be far more easy and comfortable in my mind, if I were to lock you in myself, and take the key with me in my pocket; for then, you know, my love, I should be sure no harm _could_ come to you.” Chutney turned as pale as a young lady of East Indian extraction could turn, and replied: “I’m sure—it’s—a—very good of you, ma’am—a—to take care of me, but—a—I can assure you I shall be safe—a—indeed I shall, ma’am.” “No, no, my dear child!” returned Miss Wewitz, with her blandest smile, “you think so, I dare say—giddy, foolish thing as you are; for how can _you_ be expected to know the ways of the world at your time of life. But I shall not be gone above half-an-hour at the utmost, so you can easily find something to amuse yourself for so short a time. You can play over some of your pieces, you know; and you’re far from perfect in your Battle of Prague, as yet. Your ‘cries of the wounded’ were anything but well marked, the last time I heard you——”