“Oh la, Mr. Durant!” said Sarah Jane. She blushed, and gave a glance at her husband in his white apron, and felt a burning pang that she had not married a gentleman. “Won’t you step upstairs, Sir--do step upstairs;” she cried. She was glad that the customers in the shop, and even her husband, should see how intimate she was with a gentlemanlike-looking person, such as Durant undeniably was. And she told him all about the accident that had carried off papa, and mother’s inability to survive him. She was in all the freshness of her mourning, and shed a few natural tears, notwithstanding the pleasure she had in exhibiting her drawing-room to one of Arthur’s friends. “You would have thought she didn’t take much notice of him; but he had a deal more in him than people thought, Mr. Durant, and she couldn’t live without him. She lingered just seven weeks. I can’t say that she ever held up her head again.” “And your sister has gone away?” “Oh, yes, my sister has gone away. Mamma wasn’t one to say very much, but I say it’s as touching an instance of conjugal affection--like what they put in the newspapers; and I tell Mr. Raisins, I’m sure I hope I’ll do as much for him when our time comes,” said Sarah Jane, half laughing, half crying. “The doctor couldn’t say what it was.” “And--Nancy?” “You might be more civil, Mr. Durant. My sister isn’t one to be spoken of as if she was a housemaid; but I forgot--you were always such a friend of Arthur Curtis. I see his name sometimes in the papers. La, the difference marriage makes! I never used to look at the papers, but now I read them regular every morning; and I see Arthur’s name sometimes.” “Yes,” said Durant, “and your sister, Mrs. Raisins--where has your sister gone?” “Oh, it has been a trying time!” said Sarah Jane. “Charley went first, and I’m sure if it’s all true about New Zealand, I wonder we don’t all go; and then papa died, and then mamma, and now there’s Nancy.” “But she has not died--or gone to New Zealand?” “I never said she had, Mr. Durant. I was saying it was a trying time, one thing coming on the back of another. I’m thankful Mr. Raisins and me were married before it all began, for if we hadn’t been there’s no telling what might have happened. I couldn’t have been married in my mourning.” “Has Mrs. Arthur Curtis removed far off? It would be very kind to give me an answer.” “Oh la! how can I tell?” cried Sarah Jane. “She’s as self-willed as the old gentleman himself. Nothing stops her when she’s made up her mind. There’s no telling where she may get to, before she’s done.” “She is travelling then? She may perhaps go to Vienna? Is that what you mean?” “I couldn’t say what I mean--I don’t mean anything particular. You never can, when it’s Nancy. She may go here or she may go there, and nobody can tell.” “But you must know something--you must have an address for her letters.”