Leo had no inclination or desire to thwart her, or to disturb her in her position. He commented to himself with secret satisfaction on the inconsequence of the woman who thus gave herself up, so to speak, into his hands. For all that he wanted he had now discovered, that is, where she was to be found. ‘Yes; I am the schoolmistress, Mrs. Brown, whom you scared the other day. Why should I have been scared and fled, and led you such a dance? Because it amused me, Mr. Swinford: and I am here because it amuses me. And I shall go away when I please, probably without giving notice. I think, Cecile, if you will ring your bell, it would probably please Mr. Morris, your dignified butler, to let me out to-night by the great door.’ ‘It rains,’ said Leo. ‘If you will permit me, Madame Artémise, I will order the brougham to take you home.’ She made him another curtsey with a merry devil twinkling in her eye. ‘The poor schoolmistress! That will be the best joke of all,’ she said. XLVII ‘Mother, I want you to come with me to the school,’ said Mab. She had lost no time in carrying out Mrs. Brown’s previsions, though she was quite unaware of them. ‘Me--to go with you to the school? You know I have never had anything to do with the school. There are plenty of ladies to look after the school.’ ‘Yes, I know what you always say, mother: and I never asked you before. You will never have anything to do with the parish; but this is not the parish, it is me. Mrs. Brown is a very queer woman. She has them all in the most excellent order; but--I want you to see with your own eyes and tell me what you think.’ ‘I have a very important letter to write, Mab.’ ‘You are always writing important letters now, mother. What is it about? You never tell me anything now. I used to know all about your letters, and lately you never tell me anything. You are always conspiring with Uncle James. You never trust anything to me!’ ‘Poor Uncle James! How much perplexity and trouble I have brought him--and everybody connected with me.’ ‘You--mother!’ Mab stood and stared at her with wide-open eyes. ‘No,’ said Lady William, with a blush and a laugh. ‘You do well to stare, Mab. I suppose that is one of the conventional things that people say when they are in trouble. No, I have not brought perplexity upon any one, or trouble, for a great number of years; but it is true that I have begun again now----’ ‘What is it, mother?’ Mab came to the back of her mother’s chair, put her arms round Lady William’s neck, and rubbed her downy girlish cheek against the other, which was paler, but not less soft. Then Mab made a guess at the trouble in the only form that occurred to her. ‘Have we been spending too much money? Have we got into debt? Has anything happened about--Uncle Reginald----’