‘What!’ shrieked Georgina, turning on Miss Jackson, ‘not genteel! Hoity-toity! I wonder you demean yourself by honouring us with your presence! Genteel, indeed! My brother is a professional man, madam, if he is a fool. Your family made their money in dust-carts and refuse-heaps. Genteel, indeed!’ Miss Jackson shrieked and gasped for mercy. She held her arms out and struck attitudes of despair. She would have torn her hair but that she knew it would come off directly. ‘Oh, Georgina!’ she cried, ‘don’t, don’t! If you spurn me I shall die! I didn’t mean it; indeed I didn’t!’ Here Miss Jackson went off into strong hysterics and shrieked so loudly that Georgina, fearing a crowd outside and further scandal, slapped her hands viciously and promised to forgive her. Whereupon Miss Jackson left off her hysterics, wiped away her tears, and, clasping Georgina to her heart, declared she was the best of women and the dearest of friends. Then, locking up the house, and taking Miss Jackson with her, Miss Duck marched off at once to Grigg and Limpet’s, to inform Jabez of the affair and to give him a bit of her mind. Mr. Jabez being engaged with the governors, they were shown into a little waiting-room, in which there was already an elderly-looking female deeply veiled. Presently Jabez came in, and all three ladies rose to meet him. He gave a sharp cry of mingled astonishment and horror, then turned deadly pale, and seemed as though he would fly. The elderly female had thrown her veil up. Georgina and Miss Jackson had advanced towards him. The unhappy Jabez was alone with Georgina, Miss Jackson, and Mrs. Turvey. CHAPTER XXVII. THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN. With the limited means at their command, George and Bess were not able to wander far away. George did not tell his young wife the nature of the trouble that had come upon him. He shrank from letting her knew the worst, that innocently even he had been mixed up with a gang of swindlers. The blow was so cruel it almost stunned him; but by the time Bess, wondering and trembling, came to him at the railway station, he had recovered himself sufficiently to invent a fairly plausible tale. He told her that he believed his father was in London looking for him, and he did not care to run the risk of being discovered living under an assumed name. Bess wondered why such a discovery, which, after all, was nothing very terrible, should make her husband so white and ill and nervous; but she did not question him. She was in that sweet and comfortable stage of hero-worship when a young wife believes all her husband tells her and does exactly as she is told—a delightful condition of things, which, alas! rubs off as quickly as the gilt on the gingerbread sold at country fairs. So she followed her husband in blind faith, and accepted his story as gospel. They went a little way out first and put up at a small inn, living frugally, for their capital was small.