“Oh, my dear child! don’t say another word,” cried Mrs. Wewitz, horrified at the picture which her talented daughter had given her of the probable consequences attendant upon her assenting to Mrs. Sandboys’ simple request. “Well, my love. I’m sure I should have done it, if you had not been by me to advise me; and it would have been with the best of motives, too.” “Yes, mother; and, as usual with you, with the worst possible results,” replied Miss Wewitz, with a triumphant smile. “Besides, dear mother, do just reflect for one minute! Here have we a gang of French swindlers already located in the house—of that we are certain, for we have it on the very best authority—that nice civil young man, the inspector, told me as much only this very day, you know, mother; and isn’t it very likely that you may have been imprudent enough to admit into this establishment some similar characters belonging to this country. I shouldn’t wonder at all now but they’re only part and parcel of the same gang.” “Well, my dear Di,” said the old lady, with a most reverential shake of the head, “I’m sure, with the education I’ve given you, you ought to know much better than I do about such things. But Mrs. Sandboys was such a nice homely body, and the gentleman himself appeared the last person on earth to be guilty of anything mean or bad.” “Ah, my dear mother! you don’t know the wickedness of the world, and if you did, you wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that the nice homely body, as you call her, was only part of a deep-laid scheme, and it’s only a wonder that the place was not stripped. But how I go through it all is far more than I can tell—if I was an ordinary-minded woman it would kill me. Here, this morning, I return to my home, on the eve of receiving my pupils—the daughters of some of the first families—and I am informed that I have a gang of swindlers under my roof; and this afternoon I learn that another party, who has been residing in my house, is now detained on suspicion of robbery. However it is that my mind doesn’t give way under it, is to me incomprehensible.” And then, fetching a deep-drawn sigh, she added, “but a single straw extra will break the over-burthened camel’s back. However, go you and write a note to the woman, saying, that you regret you cannot _conscientiously_ comply with her request, and adding, at the same time, that you would thank her to send for her luggage at the earliest opportunity, as, after what has transpired, you cannot think of allowing the family to continue their apartments at PARTHENON HOUSE.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIX.