"Yes, better than you do me. You have forgotten the gentleman that stopped you in the street one night with old Peter?" "Oh, dear me; yes, no, not forgotten, but I did not remember. Oh, oh, how singular that I should come right here to this house, where you live, and this dear good lady lives. Oh, I wish I was good; but I am not a good girl. Oh, sir, has this lady told you how bad I was last night? But it was not all my fault, sir. If you only know, what a poor unfortunate girl I have been--but sir, upon my word, I have not been what folks call a _bad_ girl." "We believe you. There, don't cry, keep yourself quiet to-day, and we hope to see you quite smart this evening." "Oh, do let me go and find that gentleman, for Mrs. De Vrai. If you only knew what a good lady she is now, now she don't drink any more. But I am afraid she won't live very long. She has got a dreadful cough. And she was worse last night, for she saw somebody in the street yesterday--some man--a bad man--I believe they are all bad--no, no, I don't mean all--but a good many of them." "I am glad that the sight of bad men in the street, don't make every lady sick who sees one; if it did we might turn the whole city into a general hospital. But what about that man?" "I don't know what, but she was dreadful 'fraid of him, and that he would come where she lives." "So he did, but he will not come again, soon." "Then you know him, too?" "Yes. And that is not all I know. I know you left Mrs. De Vrai's last night about half-past nine o'clock, on your way home; that soon after you started you were overtaken by a stout-built gentleman, with black hair and black whiskers, who said, 'Good evening, Miss, how did you leave Mrs. De Vrai, this evening?'" "Mercy on me, his exact words. Did you hear them? I am sure I did not see anybody else near us at the time." "No, I did not hear him--was not in that part of the city." "He has told you then. I am sure I never did." "No, neither have told me." "What then?" "What then? why, then you answered, 'Oh, sir, are you acquainted with Mrs. De Vrai?'" "So I did; why how strange that you should know it all." "And then he began to talk to you about the danger of such a pretty girl going home alone--" "Yes, sir, and then he offered me his arm; and, and, and I thought as he was a friend of Mrs. De Vrai's I might take it, and he said so many pretty things that----" "That you were deceived by a villain, and----" "Oh, sir, for mercy sake don't tell all before this dear good lady, she who saved my life last night. Don't tell all." "Why, Agnes, I cannot tell all. How do you suppose I know all?" "I don't know, sir, but I am sure you do. What is it makes you know it; is it what they call animal magnetism, or what is it? Are you a medium?" "Yes, I hope so; a medium of glad tidings, that will bring great joy to the world. But not a spirit medium, as they are called." "I don't know then how you know all about me, but I am sure you do."