"I got it safe enough; it was directed to the Bell-and-Clapper room," returned Lizzie. "What a stick of a hand you do write! I couldn't decipher whether your new mistress was Lady Beveen or Lady Beveer. I had thought you never meant to write to me again." "Well, you know, Lizzie, that quarrel between us years back, after father and mother died, was a bitter one; but I'm sure I don't want to be anything but friendly for the future. You haven't written, either. I never had but that one letter from you, telling me you had got married, and that he was a gentleman." "And you wrote back asking whether it was true, or whether I had jumped over the broomstick," retorted Lizzie, with a laugh. "You always liked to be polite to me, Harriet." "Do you ever see Uncle Dyke up in London, Lizzie?" "And Aunt Dyke too--she's his second, you know. They are both flourishing just now with rheumatism. He has got it in his chest, and she in her knees--tra, la, la, la! I say, are you not going to invite me in?" Lizzie's conversation had been interspersed with laughs and antics. I saw Harriet look at her keenly. "Was it a public-house you took shelter in, Lizzie?" she asked. "As if it could have been a private one! That's good." "Is your husband with you at Brighton? I suppose you _are_ married, Lizzie?" "As safe as that you are an old maid--or going on for one. My husband's a doctor and can't leave his patients. I came down with a friend of mine, Miss Panken; she has to go back to-night, but I mean to stay over Christmas-Day. I'll tell you all about my husband if you'll be civil enough to take me indoors." "I can't take you in to-night, Lizzie. It's too late, for one thing, and we must not have visitors on a Sunday. But you can come over to tea to-morrow evening; I'm sure my lady won't object. Come early in the afternoon. And look here," added Harriet, dropping her voice, "don't _drink_ anything beforehand; come quiet and decent." "Who has been telling you that I do drink?" demanded Lizzie, in a sharp tone. "Well, nobody has told me. But I can see it. I hope it's not a practice with you; that's all." "A practice! There you go! It wouldn't be you, Harriet, if you didn't say something unpleasant. One must take a sup of hot liquor when benighted in such freezing snow as this. And I did not put on my warm cloak; it was fine and bright when I started." "Shall I lend you one? I'll get it in a minute. Or a waterproof?" "Thanks all the same, no; I shall walk fast, I don't feel cold--and I should only have the trouble of bringing it back to-morrow afternoon. I'll be here by three o'clock. Good-night, Harriet." "Good-night, Lizzie. Go round to that path that branches off from our front-gate; keep straight on, and you can't miss the way." I had heard it all; every syllable; unable to help it. The least rustle of the laurels might have betrayed me. Betrayed me to Lizzie.