This invitation was declined. Warburton sought for his hat, and took leave of the ladies, Mrs. Cross overwhelming him with gratitude, and Bertha murmuring a few embarrassed words. As soon as he was gone, mother and daughter took hands affectionately, then embraced with more tenderness than for a long, long time. "I shall never dare to live alone with a servant," sobbed Mrs. Cross. "If you leave me, I must go into lodgings, dear." "Hush, hush, mother," replied the girl, in her gentlest voice. "Of course I shall not leave you. "Oh, the dreadful things I have been through! It was drink, Bertha; that creature was a drunkard of the most dangerous kind. She did her best to murder me. I wonder I am not at this moment lying dead.-- Oh, but the kindness of Mr. Jollyman! What a good thing I sent for him! And he speaks of finding us another servant; but, Bertha, I shall never try to manage a servant again--never. I shall always be afraid of them; I shall dread to give the simplest order. You, my dear, must be the mistress of the house; indeed you must. I give over everything into your hands. I will never interfere; I won't say a word, whatever fault I may have to find; not a word. Oh, that creature; that horrible woman will haunt my dreams. Bertha, you don't think she'll hang about the house, and lie in wait for me, to be revenged? We must tell the policeman to look out for her. I'm sure I shall never venture to go out alone, and if you leave me in the house with a new servant, even for an hour, I must be in a room with the door locked. My nerves will never recover from this shock. Oh, if you knew how ill I feel! I'll have a cup of tea, and then go straight to bed." Whilst she was refreshing herself, she spoke again of Mr. Jollyman. "Do you think I ought to have pressed him to stay, dear? I didn't feel sure." "No, no, you were quite right not to do so," replied Bertha. "He of course understood that it was better for us to be alone." "I thought he would. Really, for a grocer, he is so very gentlemanly." "That's not surprising, mother." "No, no; I'm always forgetting that he isn't a grocer by birth. I think, Bertha, it will only be right to ask him to come to tea some day before long." Bertha reflected, a half-smile about her lips. "Certainly," she said, "if you would like to." "I really should. He was so very kind to me. And perhaps--what do you think?--ought we to invite him in his proper name?" "No, I think not," answered Bertha, after a moment's reflection. "We are not supposed to know anything about that."