"Of course, Susan. Well, I am very much obliged to you, and I will call to-morrow at noon." I slipped the five sovereigns into my purse, shook hands with Susan, and left the house. I felt wonderfully independent; the touch of the gold had done this. It was marvellous with what a sense of power I now looked around me. I felt at that instant what a gulf there was between the rich and the poor. With five shillings I could be timid; with five pounds I could be wonderfully calm, collected, and brave. I walked as composedly down the gaslit streets as if I had done so every evening of my life. I entered a grocer's shop and bought half a pound of tea, very good tea. I also bought sugar, Brand's meat jelly, and a pound of paraffin candles. As I was leaving the shop I thought how fond mother was of rusks when she was ill. I turned back and got some. I was now quite laden with parcels, and as I knew I must purchase several more, and could not possibly carry them all in my hands, the next thing was to secure a basket. I was not long in discovering a sort of bazaar, where miscellaneous articles of every description were to be had. I chose a serviceable basket, paid for it, popped my groceries in, and went out. I soon added to the store a chicken, two pounds of beef for beef-tea, a loaf of bread, and some fresh butter. Finally I placed on the top of the basket a bunch of fine hothouse grapes, two or three lemons, some oranges, and, lastly, a great lovely bunch of chrysanthemums. Now, I felt that I was ready for Putney. I retraced my steps to Regent Circus, and after a little delay found myself in an omnibus which would finally land me at Victoria. I need not describe my brief journey to Putney; I had no adventures on the road. No one spoke rudely to me, or stared at me, or molested me in any fashion. The train was punctual, and my fellow-passengers civil. When I got out at Putney station I did not lose my way, for Jack's directions were explicit, and my head felt wonderfully clear. It was, however, between nine and ten o'clock at night when I arrived at the lodging-house where my brother's poor young wife lay ill. I knocked at the door, and the landlady, who had watery eyes and an ugly sodden sort of face, presently answered the summons. She opened the door about six inches, and stared at me suspiciously from head to foot. "Does Mrs Lindley live here?" I asked. "No, there's no one of that name in the house." She prepared to shut the door in my face. "Stay," I exclaimed, pressing my hand against the panel of the door, "there is a young lady here who is very ill. I am her husband's sister, and I have come with a message from him, and I have brought several things that she wants. I must see her at once." The landlady looked at the heavy basket in my hand. She glanced at my face, which I am sure was resolved in expression. She listened to my voice, which was firm.