“Who has died and done nothing for you, any more than for her pug, if she had one,” went on Mrs. Die in cool derision; “so that we are all in the same boat, whether we like it or not, and must sink or swim together. There, girl, go work at your ruffles, or some other of your fiddle-faddle acquirements, to pass the time till some change offer. You are young yet; perhaps a change will come to you. As for me, I am sick of the discussion. I have more in my head. Kitty, he was seen again last night—you need not deny it.” She turned to Mrs. Kitty with an appeal which was almost a threat. Mrs. Kitty, however surprised by Mrs. Die’s unusual appearance, was improving the time in washing up the breakfast china, having brought out from a cupboard a little hand-tub for the purpose. The prosaic proceeding was oddly at variance with all that was extraordinary and violent in Mrs. Die’s looks and conversation. “I warrant he’s staying at the Cross Whips,” admitted Mrs. Kitty, with evident unwillingness; “but he may be there without seeking to get at you.” “That’s a credible story, seeing what St. Bevis’s did for him, as if hell on earth could attract a man.” Mrs. Die rejected the suggestion, her great eyes blazing with fire and scorn. “I tell you what, Kitty, I’m going to ride over to the quarter sessions again, to show him up, and to force that hypocrite of a cousin of his, who could not save his own kinsman, and don’t care that I am left to suffer from his base degradation, to bind over Cholmondely to keep the peace, and to cease to persecute me,” she ended, with a terrible intensity of aversion and disgust in her calmness. “Inform the Squire—take counsel with him,” advised Mrs. Kitty doubtfully. “Never!” screamed Mrs. Die, clapping her hands together. “What! to be twitted by him with the past? to be reminded that he did it? that a fine Lon’on gentleman like my brother is a fiend incarnate compared to a poor sold and sunk sot? I’ll take it into my own hands. I’ll ride over to the quarter sessions this very day, and what’s more, I’ll carry this midge of a niece, Bell Etheredge, with me, to give her a little lesson in men and manners.” “You’ll let me go with you also, after you have changed your dress, and got on your habit?” Mrs. Kitty addressed her mistress soothingly. “Well, yes, I suppose I may want you,” granted Mrs. Die, calming down and considering. “Come, find my toggery, Kitty, and put it on; and you, miss,—Lady Bell, whatever they call you,—make ready, and I’ll be better than my word,” she grinned ironically. “I’ll be extreme kind, a doting aunt, taking you junketing, and showing you life, on your very first day too.”