"Any time," answered Mrs. Todhetley. "I am going over to Mr. Coney's, but not to stay. Or perhaps you'll go for me presently, Johnny, and ask whether Mrs. Coney has come home," she added, as Thomas left the room. I said I'd go. And it struck me that she must want Mrs. Coney very particularly, for this would make the fifth time I had gone on the same errand within a week. On the morning following that rapping at the window, Mrs. Coney had news that Mrs. West, her married daughter, was ill, and she started at once by the rail to Worcester to visit her. "I think I'll go and look for the fellow now," exclaimed Tod, rising from his seat and making for the window. But Mrs. Todhetley rose too, as one in mortal fright, and put herself in his way. "Joseph," she said, "I have no authority over you; you know that I have never attempted to exercise any since I came home to your father's house; but I must ask you to respect my wishes now." "What wishes?" "That you will refrain from seeking this stranger: that you will not speak to or accost him in any way, should you and he by chance meet. I have good reasons for asking it." Tod stood stock-still, neither saying Yes nor No; only biting his lips in the anger he strove to keep down. "Oh, very well," said he, going back to his seat. "Of course, as you put it in this light, I have no alternative. A night's delay cannot make much difference, and my father will be home to-morrow to act for himself." "You must not mention it to your father, Joseph. You must keep it _from_ him." "I shall tell him as soon as he comes home." "Tell him what? What is it that you suspect? What would you tell him?" Tod hesitated. He had spoken in random heat; and found, on consideration, he was without a case. He could not complain to his father of _her_: in spite of his hasty temper, he was honourable as the day. Her apparent intimacy with the man would also tie his tongue as to _him_, whomsoever he might be. "You must be quite aware that it is not a pleasant thing, or a proper thing, to have this mysterious individual encouraged here," he said, looking at her. "And you think I encourage him, Joseph?" "Well, it seems that you--that you must know who he is. I saw you talking with him one day in the Ravine," continued Tod, disdaining not to be perfectly open, now it had come to an explanation. "Johnny was with me. If he is a relative of yours, why, of course----" "He is no relative of mine, Joseph." And Tod opened his eyes wide to hear the denial. It was the view he had taken all along. "Then why do you suffer him to annoy you?--and I am sure he does do it. Let me deal with him. I'll soon ascertain what his business may be." "But that is just what you must not do," she said, seeming to speak out the truth in very helplessness, like a frightened child. "You must leave him in my hands, Joseph: I shall be able, I dare say, to--to--get rid of him shortly." "_You_ know what he wants?"