And then, in the intervals of Mrs. Leadbatter's groanings, there came to him the unmistakable sound of Mary Ann sobbing--violently, hysterically. He turned from cold to hot in a fever of shame and humiliation. How had it all come about? Oh yes, he could guess. The gloves! What a fool he had been! Mrs. Leadbatter had unearthed the box. Why did he give her more than the pair that could always be kept hidden in her pocket? Yes, it was the gloves. And then there was the canary. Mrs. Leadbatter had suspected he was leaving her for a reason. She had put two and two together, she had questioned Mary Ann, and the ingenuous little idiot had naively told her he was going to take her with him. It didn't really matter, of course; he didn't suppose Mrs. Leadbatter could exercise any control over Mary Ann, but it was horrible to be discussed by her and Rosie; and then there was that meddlesome vicar, who might step in and make things nasty. Mrs. Leadbatter's steps and wheezes and grumblings had arrived in the passage, and Lancelot hastily stole back into his room, his heart continuing to flutter painfully. He heard the complex noises reach his landing, pass by, and move up higher. She wasn't coming in to him, then. He could endure the suspense no longer; he threw open his door and said, "Is there anything the matter?" Mrs. Leadbatter paused and turned her head. "His there anything the matter!" she echoed, looking down upon him. "A nice thing when a woman's troubled with hastmer, and brought 'ome 'er daughter to take 'er place, that she should 'ave to start 'untin' afresh!" "Why, is Rosie going away?" he said, immeasurably relieved. "My Rosie! She's the best girl breathing. It's that there Mary Ann!" "Wh-a-t!" he stammered. "Mary Ann leaving you?" "Well, you don't suppose," replied Mrs. Leadbatter angrily, "as I can keep a gel in my kitchen as is a-goin' to 'ave 'er own nors-end-kerridge!" "Her own horse and carriage!" repeated Lancelot, utterly dazed. "What ever are you talking about?" "Well--there's the letter!" exclaimed Mrs. Leadbatter indignantly. "See for yourself if you don't believe me. I don't know how much two and a 'arf million dollars is--but it sounds unkimmonly like a nors-end-kerridge--and never said a word about 'im the whole time, the sly little thing!" The universe seemed oscillating so that he grasped at the letter like a drunken man. It was from the vicar. He wrote: