"I'm afraid he didn't _want_ me here," Perpetua is saying, in a low distressed little voice--"I'm sorry I came now--but, you don't _know_ how cruel Aunt Jane was to me, Mrs. Mulcahy, you don't indeed! She--she said such unkind things about--about----" Perpetua breaks down again--struggles with herself valiantly, and finally bursts out crying. "I'm tired, I'm sleepy," sobs she miserably. Need I say what follows? The professor, stung to the quick by those forlorn sobs, lifts his eyes, and--behold! he sees Perpetua gathered to the ample bosom of the formidable, kindly Mulcahy. "Come wid me, me lamb," says that excellent woman. "Bad scran to the one that made yer purty heart sore. Lave her to me now, Misther Curzon, dear, an' I'll take a mother's care of her." (This in an aside to the astounded professor.) "There now, alanna! Take courage now! Sure 'tis to the right shop ye've come, anyway, for 'tis daughthers I have meself, me dear--fine, sthrappin' girls as could put you in their pockits. Ye poor little crather! Oh! Murther! Who could harm the likes of ye? Faix, I hope that ould divil of an aunt o' yours won't darken these doors, or she'll git what she won't like from Biddy Mulcahy. There now! There now! 'Tis into yer bed I'll tuck ye meself, for 'tis worn-out ye are--God help ye!" She is gone, taking Perpetua with her. The professor rubs his eyes, and then suddenly an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Mrs. Mulcahy takes possession of him. _What_ a woman! He had never thought so much moral support could be got out of a landlady--but Mrs. Mulcahy has certainly tided him safely over _one_ of his difficulties. Still, those that remain are formidable enough to quell any foolish present attempts at relief of mind. "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow!" How many to-morrows is she going to remain here? Oh! Impossible! Not an _hour_ must be wasted. By the morning light something must be put on foot to save the girl from her own foolhardiness, nay ignorance! Once again, sunk in the meshes of depression, the persecuted professor descends to the room where Hardinge awaits him. "Anything new?" demands the latter, springing to his feet. "Yes! Mrs. Mulcahy came up." The professor's face is so gloomy, that Hardinge may be forgiven for saying to himself, "She has assaulted him!" "I'm glad it isn't visible," says he, staring at the professor's nose, and then at his eye. Both are the usual size. "Eh?" says the professor. "She was visible of course. She was kinder than I expected." "So, I see. She might so easily have made it your lip--or your nose--or----" "_What_ is there in Everett's cupboard besides the beer?" demands the professor angrily. "For Heaven's sake! attend to me, and don't sit there grinning like a first-class chimpanzee!" This is extremely rude, but Hardinge takes no notice of it. "I tell you she was kind--kinder than one would expect," says the professor, rapping his knuckles on the table. "Oh! I see. She? Miss Wynter?"