The young man nodded affectionately and sat in doubtful consideration as the front door closed behind her. “Where is mother going?” he asked, in a voice which betrayed a little pardonable anxiety. “Not far, I hope,” said Prudence. “I really think,” said Mr. Catesby, rising—“I really think that I had better go after her. At her age——” He walked into the small passage and put his hand on the latch. Prudence, now quite certain of his sanity, felt sorely reluctant to let such impudence go unpunished. “Are you going?” she inquired. “I think I’d better,” said Mr. Catesby, gravely. “Dear mother—” “You’re afraid,” said the girl, calmly. Mr. Catesby coloured and his buoyancy failed him. He felt a little bit cheap. “You are brave enough with two women,” continued the girl, disdainfully; “but you had better go if you’re afraid.” Mr. Catesby regarded the temptress uneasily. “Would you like me to stay?” he asked. “I?” said Miss Truefitt, tossing her head. “No, I don’t want you. Besides, you’re frightened.” Mr. Catesby turned, and with a firm step made his way back to the room; Prudence, with a half-smile, took a chair near the door and regarded her prisoner with unholy triumph. “I shouldn’t like to be in your shoes,” she said, agreeably; “mother has gone for a policeman.” “Bless her,” said Mr. Catesby, fervently. “What had we better say to him when he comes?” “You’ll be locked up,” said Prudence; “and it will serve you right for your bad behaviour.” Mr. Catesby sighed. “It’s the heart,” he said, gravely. “I’m not to blame, really. I saw you standing in the window, and I could see at once that you were beautiful, and good, and kind.” “I never heard of such impudence,” continued Miss Truefitt. “I surprised myself,” admitted Mr. Catesby. “In the usual way I am very quiet and well-behaved, not to say shy.” Miss Truefitt looked at him scornfully. “I think that you had better stop your nonsense and go,” she remarked. “Don’t you want me to be punished?” inquired the other, in a soft voice. “I think that you had better go while you can,” said the girl, and at that moment there was a heavy knock at the front-door. Mr. Catesby, despite his assurance, changed colour; the girl eyed him in perplexity. Then she opened the small folding-doors at the back of the room. “You’re only—stupid,” she whispered. “Quick! Go in there. I’ll say you’ve gone. Keep quiet, and I’ll let you out by-and-by.” She pushed him in and closed the doors. From his hiding-place he heard an animated conversation at the street-door and minute particulars as to the time which had elapsed since his departure and the direction he had taken. “I never heard such impudence,” said Mrs. Truefitt, going into the front-room and sinking into a chair after the constable had taken his departure. “I don’t believe he was mad.” “Only a little weak in the head, I think,” said Prudence, in a clear voice. “He was very frightened after you had gone; I don’t think he will trouble us again.”