Christmas came, and with it an unanticipated call from Miss. Fanny French, who said she had lately recovered from a serious illness in Paris; the nature of her malady she did not specify; it had left her haggard and thin, but by no means deficient in vivacity. She was dressed with tawdry extravagance, wore a mass of false yellow hair, had her eyebrows dyed black,--piquant contrast,--and her cheeks and lips richly carmined. No veritable information as to her past and present could be gleaned from the mixture of French and English which she ceaselessly gabbled. She had come over for Christmas, that was all; could not dream of returning to live in wretched England. At Brussels and in Paris she had made hosts of friends, just the right sort of people. Ada told her all the news. Of most interest was that which related to Nancy Lord. Only a month ago it had become known that Nancy was married, and the mother of a child. ‘The Barmbys found it out somehow,’ Ada narrated. ‘She was married to a man called Tarrant, some one we never heard of, on the very day of her father’s death, and, of course, before she knew anything about his will. Then, of course, it had to be kept dark, or she’d lose all her money. Her husband hadn’t a farthing. She supported him, and they say he lived most of the time in her house. He’s a regular scamp, a drinking, betting fellow. Well, it all came out, and the Barmbys turned her into the street at a moment’s notice--serve her right!’ Fanny shrieked with merriment. ‘And what is she doing?’ ‘She went on her knees to Beatrice, and begged for a place at the shop, if it was only a few shillings a week. Nice come-down for Nancy Lord, wasn’t it? Of course Beatrice sent her off with a flea in her ear. I don’t know where she’s living, but I’ve heard that her husband has gone to America, and left her to shift for herself, now there’s nothing more to be got out of her.’ For supplementary details of this racy narrative, Fanny sought out Beatrice; but to her astonishment and annoyance Beatrice would tell nothing. The elder sister urged Fanny to give an account of herself, and used some very plain speech of the admonitory kind. ‘What has become of that jackanapes, Horace Lord?’ asked Fanny, after a contemptuous remark about ‘sermons.’ ‘I don’t know. The question is, what’s going to become of _you_?’ Whereupon the girl grew vituperative in two languages, and made off. Her relatives saw no more of her for a long time.