Mrs Nunn was not well enough to leave the house to-day; but, said Rhoda, the invalid preferred being left alone at such times.

‘Are you sure she prefers it?’ Alice ventured to ask.

The girl gave her a look of surprise.

‘Why should mother say what she doesn’t mean?’

It was uttered with an ingenuousness which threw some light on Rhoda’s character.

By nine o’clock the younger trio of sisters had gone to bed; Alice, Virginia, and Gertrude sat in the parlour, occupied with books, from time to time exchanging a quiet remark. A tap at the door scarcely drew their attention, for they supposed it was the maid-servant coming to lay supper. But when the door opened there was a mysterious silence; Alice looked up and saw the expected face, wearing, however, so strange an expression that she rose with sudden fear.

‘Can I speak to you, please, Miss?’

The dialogue out in the passage was brief. A messenger had just arrived with the tidings that Dr Madden, driving back from Kingston Seymour, had been thrown from his vehicle, and lay insensible at a roadside cottage.…

For some time the doctor had been intending to buy a new horse; his faithful old roadster was very weak in the knees. As in other matters, so in this, postponement became fatality; the horse stumbled and fell, and its driver was flung head forward into the road. Some hours later they brought him to his home, and for a day or two there were hopes that he might rally. But the sufferer’s respite only permitted him to dictate and sign a brief will; this duty performed, Dr Madden closed his lips for ever.

2
ADRIFT

JUST before Christmas of 1887, a lady past her twenties and with a look of discouraged weariness on her thin face, knocked at a house-door in a little street by Lavender Hill. A card in the window gave notice that a bed-room was here to let. When the door opened and a clean, grave, elderly woman presented herself, the visitor, regarding her anxiously, made known that she was in search of a lodging.

‘It may be for a few weeks only, or it may be for a longer period,’ she said in a low, tired voice, with an accent of good breeding. ‘I have a difficulty in finding precisely what I want. One room would be sufficient, and I ask for very little attendance.’

She had but one room to let, replied the other. It might be inspected.

They went upstairs. The room was at the back of the house, small, but neatly furnished. Its appearance seemed to gratify the visitor, for she smiled timidly.

‘What rent should you ask?’

‘That would depend, mum, on what attendance was required.’

‘Yes—of course. I think—will you permit me to sit down? I am really very tired. Thank you.—I require very little attendance indeed. My ways are very simple. I should make the bed myself, and—and, do the other little things that are necessary from day to day. Perhaps I might ask you to sweep the room out—once a week or so.’

The landlady grew meditative. Possibly she had had experience of lodgers who were anxious to give as little trouble as possible. She glanced furtively at the stranger.

‘And what,’ was her question at length, ‘would you be thinking of paying?’

‘Perhaps I had better explain my position. For several years I have been companion to a lady in Hampshire. Her death has thrown me on my own resources—I hope only for a short time. I have come to London because a younger sister of mine is employed here in a house of business; she recommended me to seek for lodgings in this part; I might as well be near her whilst I am endeavouring to find another post; perhaps I may be fortunate enough to find one in London. Quietness and economy are necessary to me. A house like yours would suit me very well—very well indeed. Could we not agree upon terms within my—within my power?’

Again the landlady pondered.

‘Would you be willing to pay five and sixpence?’*

‘Yes, I would pay five and sixpence—if you are quite sure that you could let me live in my own way with satisfaction to yourself. I—in fact, I am a vegetarian, and as the meals I take are so very simple, I feel that I might just as well prepare them myself. Would you object to my doing so in this room? A kettle and a saucepan are really all—absolutely all—that I should need to use. As I shall be much at home, it will be of course necessary for me to have a fire.’

In the course of half an hour an agreement had been devised which seemed fairly satisfactory to both parties.

‘I’m not one of the graspin’ ones,’ remarked the landlady.