Reaching Monk’s Lodge in due course, Mrs. Gillingwater, who was not afflicted with Joan’s humility, went to the front door and rang the bell boldly. Its sound disturbed Mr. Levinger from his reading, and he stepped to the window to perceive her standing on the doorstep, red and hot from her walk, and looking, as he thought, unusually large, coarse and violent. “There is that dreadful woman again,” he said to himself. “I can’t bear the sight of her. I wonder now if, had she lived, poor Mary would have looked like her by this time. Perhaps,” and he sighed; then, opening the door, told the servant to say that he was not at home. She obeyed, and presently there arose sounds of altercation. “It ain’t no use, you impudent barefaced thing, for you to stand there a-lying your soul away, when I saw him with my own eyes,” shrilled the rough voice of Mrs. Gillingwater. “Not at home: them’s my orders,” answered the girl with warmth, as she attempted to shut the door. “No, you don’t, hussy!” retorted the visitor, thrusting her foot between it and the jamb. “I’ve got some orders must see him, about Joan Haste, and if he won’t let me in I’ll holler what I’ve got to say outside the house.” Alarmed by the violence of her antagonist, the girl retreated, and, returning presently, showed Mrs. Gillingwater into the study without a word. Here she found Mr. Levinger standing by the fire, his face white with anger. “Be seated, Mrs. Gillingwater,” he said in a quiet voice, “and tell me what you mean by coming to make a disturbance here.” “I mean that I want to see you, sir,” she answered sullenly, “and that I won’t be driven away from your door like a dog. Once for all I tell you, sir, that you’d better be careful how you treat me, for if you turn dirty to me, I’ll turn dirty to you. It’s only the dead that don’t speak, sir, and I’m very much alive, I am.” Then she paused and added threateningly, “You can’t treat me as I’ve heard say you did another, Mr. Levinger.” “Have you quite done?” he asked. “Very well, then; be so good as to listen to me: you can tell nothing about me, for the best of all possible reasons, that you know nothing. On the other hand, Mrs. Gillingwater, I can, if necessary, tell something about you perhaps you may remember to what I refer, if not I can refresh your memory ah! I see that there is no need. A moment’s reflection will show you that you are entirely in my power. If you dare to make any attack upon my character, or even to repeat such a disturbance as you have just caused, I will ruin you and drive you to the workhouse, where, except for me, you would have been long ago. In earnest of what I say, your husband will receive to-morrow a summons for the rent that he owes me, and a notice to quit my house. I trust that I have made myself clear.”