Wilfrid Somerset replied that he believed something of the sort was regularly done in some parts of Canada and the New England States. “But where it is done, the whole construction of society is different from what it is in London,” said Miss Latimer. “And it is where things are half one way and half another that somebody has to suffer cruelly,” she added. She, a breadwinning woman all her days, knew the strain which had come upon Lucy, and could understand how these few hours were wasting forces which should have been conserved to suffice for the productive labour of weeks. For Lucy’s sake, she was truly thankful when the effort was over—when little Hugh had gone to bed, when Tom Black had said good-bye and had departed in the best of spirits, and when, left only to her two old and trusted friends, Lucy could drop the mask of cheerfulness and be the anxious, shaken creature she really was. “Well,” sighed Lucy, “Charlie is sure to have thought of us to-day; but certainly his imagination has never pictured the reality!” The miserable Mrs. Morison was sleeping quietly now, and was not likely to waken until morning. Miss Latimer declared that she would remain with Lucy if Mr. Somerset would leave word at her lodgings that she was not to be expected that night. He urged the two ladies to go to bed directly he departed. They both needed rest, and he felt sure they would not be disturbed. It was good advice; but they were too nervous to take it. They might sleep heavily in their upper chamber, and the culprit might waken and steal out, or she might rise and commit suicide. So they made themselves as comfortable as they could in the dining-room, dozing off and waking and talking in whispers to each other, till suddenly they roused with a start. The house was full of the dull grey light of winter dawn. There was a slow heavy footfall in the passage. The culprit stood before them, unkempt, dishevelled, pale, but once more in her right mind. “Oh, Mrs. Morison!” cried Lucy. “How could you do this thing? How could you?” and Lucy began to weep bitterly. “I’ve nothing to say for myself, mem, nothing at all!” said the woman heavily, with no sign of feeling except what was conveyed in the utter absence of such sign. “But I’m just going to get your breakfasts for you. You shall have them all right. Then you can do what you like with me.”