“Oh! stop, stop, stop!” cried Lottie, wild with horror. She cast a hurried glance round, to see what excuse she could make for getting away. Then she seized eagerly upon her music which lay on the old square piano. “I must go to my lesson,” she said. “Your lesson! Are you having lessons too? Upon my word! Oh, my poor husband! my poor Captain! No wonder as he has nothing but cold beef to eat,” said Polly, with all the fervour of a deliverer, finding out one misery after another. “And if one might make so bold as to ask, Miss, who is it as has the honour to give lessons to you?” “The Signor--Mr. Rossinetti,” Lottie added, after a moment. It seemed desecration to talk of any of the familiar figures within the Abbey precincts by their familiar title to this intruder. “Oh! I’m not so ignorant as not to know who the Signor is. That will be half-a-guinea, or at the least seven-and-six a lesson!” she said, raising her hands in horror. “Oh, my poor ’usband! This is how his money goes! Miss,” said Polly, severely, “you can’t expect as I should put up with such goings on. I have your papa to think of, and I won’t see him robbed--no, not whatever you may do. For I call that robbery, just nothing else. Half-a-guinea a lesson, and encouraging Law to waste his time! I can’t think how you can do it: with that good, dear, sweet, confiding man letting you have your own way, and suspecting nothing,” cried Polly, clasping her hands. Then she got up suddenly. “I declare,” she cried, “church is near over, and me not ready to go out and meet him! I can’t go out a figure, in a common rag like this, and me a bride. I must put on my silk. Of course, he wants to show me off a bit before his friends. I’ll run and get ready, and we can talk of this another time.”