“My brother,” said she, throwing her arms round him and kissing him. He recoiled from the embrace, but I think that he attempted to return the kiss. “And now I will tell the whole story,” said Mrs. Brown. And she told it, acknowledging her fault with true contrition, and swearing that she would atone for it by life-long sisterly devotion. “And you mustard-plastered the wrong man!” said the old gentleman, almost rolling off his chair with delight. “I did,” said Mrs. Brown, sobbing, “and I think that no woman ever suffered as I suffered.” “And Jones wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?” “It was the handkerchief stopped us,” said Brown. “If it had turned out to be anybody else,” said the member of Parliament, “the results might have been most serious,--not to say discreditable.” “That’s nonsense, Robert,” said Mrs. Brown, who was disposed to resent the use of so severe a word, even from the legislator cousin. “In a strange gentleman’s bedroom!” he continued. “It only shows that what I have always said is quite true. You should never go to bed in a strange house without locking your door.” Nevertheless it was a very jovial meeting, and before the evening was over Mr. Jones was happy, and had been brought to acknowledge that the mustard-plaster would probably not do him any permanent injury. THE TELEGRAPH GIRL. CHAPTER I. LUCY GRAHAM AND SOPHY WILSON. Three shillings a day to cover all expenses of life, food, raiment, shelter, a room in which to eat and sleep, and fire and light,--and recreation if recreation there might be,--is not much; but when Lucy Graham, the heroine of this tale, found herself alone in the world, she was glad to think that she was able to earn so much by her work, and that thus she possessed the means of independence if she chose to be independent. Her story up to the date with which we are dealing shall be very shortly told. She had lived for many years with a married brother, who was a bookseller in Holborn,--in a small way of business, and burdened with a large family, but still living in decent comfort. In order, however, that she might earn her own bread she had gone into the service of the Crown as a “Telegraph Girl” in the Telegraph Office.[A] And there she had remained till the present time, and there she was earning eighteen shillings a week by eight hours’ continual work daily. Her life had been full of occupation, as in her spare hours she had been her brother’s assistant in his shop, and had made herself familiar with the details of his trade. But the brother had suddenly died, and it had been quickly decided that the widow and the children should take themselves off to some provincial refuge.