“No, I have a lodging outside. I couldn’t have a wink of sleep in a grand sort o’ place like this, but I have come to say——” “We will talk in my bedroom, mother.” CHAPTER XXI. “HONOR BRIGHT.” Clara took her mother to her bedroom. A bright fire glowed in the grate, the bed was turned down, and everything looked soft, luxurious, and the very height of luxury. “A deary me!” said the old woman again—she dropped two curtseys—one to the bed and another to the fire. “I never held with grandeur. It’s all very well for them as was born to it, but folks like you and me, Clary, we ain’t meant to have it, and it don’t agree with us. Why, you’re the color of a duck’s egg in complexion now, and your freckles seem to have spread.” “Oh, mother, what do you want?” said Clara. “What have you come about?” “Aye, aye, that’s the mystery,” said little Mrs. Ives, her small eyes dancing. “Is there anything wrong with the child?” “You’ll hear in a minute, my deary dear. Oh, I’ll sit near you if you wish, but not close to the fire—it shrivels up the complexion, and it’s making you as green as can be.” “What have you got to say?” exclaimed Mrs. Tarbot. She had great difficulty in restraining herself from using angry words. “You was always one for your tempers, Clara. But never mind, I has come to say——” “What, mother?” “That I have brought the child back to London.” “And why, may I ask?” “Because he wished to see the place where he was accustomed to live, and why should I fret him—the dear lamb?” “Where have you taken him? You know I gave up my rooms in Brand’s Buildings.” “I ain’t gone back there. I has took a nice lodging for myself and the boy at 30 Hester Street, just over the way.” “You ought not to have done it, mother.” “The child was restless,” continued the old woman. “He’s a bonny boy, and I ain’t got his secret out of him, but I very near have. I thought it best to come and tell you, and you had better come round and have a look at him in the morning.” “I’ll come now,” said Clara. “You wait a minute. I must look into this matter directly.” She went to her wardrobe, opened it, and took out an old bonnet which she had not worn since her marriage, and also a long cloak. “Can’t you wait till the morning?” said the mother. “No; I have other things to attend to then. I’ll come with you now.” The old woman made no further objection. Clara opened the door of her bedroom and, accompanied by Mrs. Ives, went down-stairs. The servants had gone to bed, for the hour was nearly midnight. Mrs. Tarbot took a latch-key from a hook in the hall, and slipped it into her pocket; then she opened the door and went out. The two women did not take long in reaching No. 30 Hester Street. Most of the lights in the house were out, but in reply to their ring a woman with a dirty dress and red face opened the door. Mrs. Ives nodded to her.