"Why, Miss Phoebe!" cried that model servant-of-all-work. "Where are you going all alone?" "If my aunt or my cousin asks for me," said Phoebe, hurriedly, "tell them I have gone to Parksides to see my father." Before 'Melia Jane could reply, Phoebe had turned the corner of the street, and was hastening to the railway station. CHAPTER VII. BETTER THAN ANY DAY-DREAM. At five o'clock of the following afternoon two men paused in front of Uncle Leth's house in Camden Town, and looked up at the windows. "This is the number," said one. "Yes," replied the other; "she lives here." A rat-tat with the knocker brought 'Melia Jane to the street door. "Is Mr. Lethbridge at home?" asked one of the men. "No, sir," replied 'Melia Jane; "he's at his bank." "Is Mrs. Lethbridge in?" "Yes, sir." "Her niece, Miss Phoebe Farebrother, is stopping here, is she not?" "Yes, sir." "Is _she_ in?" "Yes, sir; but you can't see her, if that's what you've come for." "Why can't we see her?" "'Cause she's too ill to be seen by anybody but us. Poor thing! she's no sooner out of one fit than she's into another." "Ah!" And the speaker glanced at his companion. "I'm sorry to hear it--very, very sorry." His voice was soothing and sympathizing, and 'Melia Jane, who had not been too favourably impressed by the strangers, became instantly mollified. "How long has she been ill?" "Oh, come!" exclaimed 'Melia Jane, relapsing into her original view. "_You_ don't belong to the family, as I'm aware of." "No, we do not, my good girl," observed the man; "but that would not prevent me from feeling pity for any young lady who is ill, I hope." He smiled so kindly upon 'Melia Jane that she did not know what to think of him. "Perhaps it's what occurred last night that has upset her?" "I don't know what occurred last night," said 'Melia Jane, sharply; "do you?" "Why, my girl, a number of things occur every night. Which particular one do you refer to?" "I once knowed a girl," said 'Melia Jane, with an air of scornful defiance, "who knowed another girl who had a friend who lived in Pump Court." "Well?" said the stranger, seemingly much amused. "In Pump Court he lived," said 'Melia Jane. "And he lived _by_ it as well as _in_ it. Lor' bless you! The artful way in which he'd pump people, so's to get out of 'em every blessed thing he wanted to know--it was a sight, that's what it was!" The man laughed heartily. "So you think we've come to pump you, my good girl! Perhaps you're right and perhaps you're wrong. Now if I were to ask you whether Miss Phoebe Farebrother slept at home last night--I mean here, in her aunt's house--I suppose you would call that pumping?" "I should--and I shouldn't answer you." "But why, my good girl?--why? Is there any reason for secrecy in so simple a matter? However, I will _not_ ask you, and in proof that I'm not quite the bad sort of fellow you take me for, I will just inquire whether this brooch belongs to Miss Farebrother."