"Well, yes, my boy, I don't think there's a doubt about it." "Then that's all your fault, gov'nor," said Tom. "My dear boy, don't you turn upon me and bully me too. I--I--I've lost my poor little girl, and I--I--I can't bear much. It's such a disgrace. I know I ought to have stood up for her more, Tom, my boy, but her ladyship is so very strong-minded, you know." "Yes, I know," said Tom. "She was too much for both of us, gov'nor. Well, it's no use to fret about it that I see. The little filly's taken the bit in her teeth, topped the hedge, and away she's gone. And she so sly over it too!" "She was very sorry to go, Tom, I'm sure. She was in such trouble to-day." "Yes," said Tom, quietly, "we ought to have suspected something. How about old Wilters?" "He's nearly mad, my boy. He has--has--has been running round--round the drawing-room like--like--like--" "A cat on hot bricks, father." "Yes, my son. He's furious--he's going to kill him." "Yes, of course," said Tom, grinning. "I should like to see him do it." "But--but--but, Tom, my boy, don't take it quite so coolly." "Why not, father? Hallo? who's this, eh? Oh, of course," he said, "here are the women now." For her ladyship came in leaning upon Tryphie's arm, to immediately shriek and fall back in a chair. "Oh, Tom! oh, Tom," she cried, "I shall never survive. The disgrace-- the disgrace." "Nonsense. Here, father, Tryphie, Maude has gone off with Charley Melton, I suppose?" "No, no, no!" shrieked her ladyship. "Oh, horror, horror, horror!" "Tryphie, cork her mouth with a handkerchief, or they'll hear her across the street. Here, father, what's the row. Charley Melton, eh?" "No--no--no, my dear boy," stammered Lord Barmouth, "I--I--I--damme, though her ladyship's here, I say it in her presence, I wish she had. It's too dreadful to tell." "My God, father!" cried Tom, excitedly, as he turned pale, and the cold sweat stood upon his forehead, for like a flash came upon him the recollection of his sister's words that day, and brought up such a picture of horror before his eyes, that he trembled like a leaf. "Don't say--don't tell me--" He could not finish, but stood panting, and gazing at the horror-stricken face of his mother. "No, my boy, I won't if you don't want me to," said the old man, feebly; "but it's--it's--such a terrible disgrace." "Father," faltered Tom, in a hoarse whisper, "has she--has she drowned herself?" "Oh, no, my boy, no--no--no," cried the old man, with the tears streaming down his cheeks. "She has eloped under disgraceful circumstances." "Not with one of the servants, father?" cried Tom. "No, no, my boy, worse than that." "Hang it, father," cried Tom, savagely, "there is no worse, without she has gone off with a sweep." "Yes, yes, my boy," cried the old man. "She has gone off with an organ-grinder and a monkey!" "Which?" roared Tom, seizing the poker; "it isn't murder to kill an ape."