t six in t seemed still t to me, for my candle of course o notains  out. , came knocking at my door, I t I  Lant Street. I ers filed free by Mr Ibbs. t imes; and sometimes times te villains. Once a man put a knife to Mr Ibbss t, because  too sloarted from t, O I meant to be  to , I could not tell you; and neit. S  ter for me, and s my fire; took t, and emptied it into  of

    slops, and  clean   her apron.

    I o   tip my piddle into , I  sure I liked it. But I said, t—t; for s and tossed o say, hanking her?

    Servants. Sake my breakfast in Mrs Stiless pantry. turned and left me—getting a quick look, I t, at my frock and my srunk, on the way.

    I ed for to take, t oo cold to  t in, I sao see t before, by t treaked bro tained we.

    From t-door room t saying, Yes, miss. tting of a door.

    t doo my breakfast—first losing my  ttom of ts stairs, and finding myself in t. ttles, and ted panes. Gentleman  t, too, about ts. iless pantry at last tockings, and . t o Mr Lilly for forty-five years, .  ts, . e  hey say Londoners can lush!

    Mr ay said o me, but spoke to Mrs Stiles about ter to  left; and wold he Dunravens, of

    reet, Mayfair,  o s a humbug he was.

    off at seven. Mrs Stiles  leave table before  up. hen she did she said,

    You o  Miss Maud slept well.

    I didnt knoo say to t. S on, anyway:

    Miss Maud rises early. S you be sent to o wasicular.

    My o me; but I le stone sink sry.

    I felt t drunk it. I ain I so it again.

    I was nervous.

    Sook me up. e , as before, by ts stairs, but truck out into a  led to one or t one of t catc came, but suppose s. Sraigurned the iron handle, and led me in.

    ts s floor—rifling turkey carpets, t  ables about, and one or ts mout branctled in their frames.

    ttle spluttering fire in a vast old grate, and before tanding gazing into t turning as sep, and starting, and blinking—tress of t all our plot  on.

    I ed  Gentleman o be quite out of t s t—at least, I did not tudied  aller t very fair—and er. , for I liked to bite my oo be s young-looking; but as to t— to udied Maud Lilly as sood before me no, s knearted, as I ook a step or to meet me, and opped, and put ly, at . t—I   onis in a net of velvet. On  toned up tig t. She said,

    Miss Smito be my maid, from London! And may I call you Susan? I  at Briar, Susan; and I  muco like, in eit do it very easily— very easily, indeed.

    S, s, ing voice, tilting  me, still quite crimson at t Lant Street, and gripped my skirt and made a curtsey. And w sook my hand in hers.

    S Mrs Stiles, he door.

    You need not stay, Mrs Stiles, s you  my eye. Youve  I am an orpo

    Briar as a c all to care for me. I cannot tell you all tiles  a mot time.

    Silted iles  catch her

    gaze, but a bit of colour struggled into tered. I s , myself; but servants groimental over take my .

    Anye; and t us. Maud smiled again, and led me to one of t o t beside me. Ser my journey—e supposed you lost! ser my room. Did I like my bed? Did I like my breakfast?

    And   anyone  Lant Street—as if I mig t s in a different sort of  in a gaping country  in a noticing, o o .

    Of course, I t I knew w was.

    Next sold me all ties I so do,   tidy her gowns. She lowered her eyes.

    Youll see  of t Briar, s matters little, I suppose, since . But you, of course, o t styles of London.

    I t of Daintys . Pretty used, I said.

    And your last mistress, s on te a fine lady? So look at me, I expect!

    Sill , and again looked from me; and again I t, You pigeon!

    But  Lady Alice— Gentleman oo kind to laug anyone,

    and  grand clot not  ougo be judged. All in all, I t, it ty clever to say; and so too, for w s me in a new way and  down, and sook my hink. I said, Lady Alice always said so, miss.

    ter t Gentleman ten for me, and t t be t to present it. I took it from my pocket and  over. So to o t. Sood a long time looking at t me; and my  beat a little fast to t iced somet it  t: for I sa last t rembled; and I guessed t s a proper cer  w she should say.

    I t it almost a s, t sher.

    ell, sting it inside , Lady Alice does indeed speak  o leave her house.

    Pretty sorry, miss, I said. But to India. I ther fierce.

    S. Strong lig.

    Seete. I smiled, but kept my lips s—for my oeet are yelloo say quite yellohem yellower.

    S, miss.

    library. t library, of its kind, in all of England. I dare say you  soon.

    t hing, miss, Im sure.

    So read, of course?

    I so read, miss? Sing. Pretty muc last. t is, I am sure I so be shown.

    Sared.

    to learn, I mean, I said.

    Sared, even , disbelieving sort of laug mean, you cannot read? Not really? Not a  a letter? tle table . Still ook t to me. Go on, s. Read me any part, I s mind if you stumble.

    I  beginning to s. I opened it and looked at a page. It . I tried anot one  Mauds gaze, like a flame against my  face. I felt tter. take a c.

    Our Fatried, w in heaven—

    But t t. I closed t my lip, and looked at t, very bitterly, ell,   a maid t cant read e fancy letters in a curling ed my eyes to hers and said,

    I migaug, miss. I am t willing. Im sure I could learn, in half a wink—

    But shing.

    Be taugly taking back t allo. Not read! Ao live in t t meant. You should know, indeed!

    Sill ill smiling, tolling of t  times; and then her smile fell.

    No go to Mr Lilly; and wrikes one I shall be free again.

    S—sounding, I t, just like a girl in a story. Arent tories, s, and s? She said,

    Come to me, Susan, at my uncles c one.

    I will, miss, I said.

    S racted kind of  to it, and put o o c goed at the back and showed her calves.

    S my eye in tsey.

    Shall I go, miss? I said.

    Sepped back. Stay, s my rooms in order, will you?

    S to t topped. She said,

    I . I , in London,  miss you too greatly. It , I t Mr Rivers mentioned? Se well, when you saw him?

    S tion fall, like it o o make all t. As if sy!

    I said,  s.

    S. Did ruly? she said.

    truly, miss.

    S  tly.

    I remembered ting at t kitcticoat, saying, You s bitch.

    Im sure hes very kind, miss, I said.

    tinkling of a little urned and ran, leaving tairs as s down.

    I ed a second, tepped to t my foot to it, and kicked it s. I  to t te  Street. I lifted my  Maud  my o my freckled ceetongue. t as Gentleman it over  t as , and tor be standing ready rait-coat at the madhouse door.

    ts , after seeing hen.

    But I t it in a discontented sort of o admit,  e iller t se, ttling of panes of glass. I  to t tle red sand-bags laid upon to keep it out, but t  , and  my o one, and my finger came aood and s t a vie  plain grass and trees. A fehe lawn. I wondered which way London was.

    I er. I arnish.

    t of somet my rooms in order, Maud  I supposed must be  be anot in  house were all of dark oak panelling,

    very gloomy on t so pat in t spot t I looked ood, I sa me, plain as daylight.

    It o  as I , t o my o before and listened for  seemed a very fooliso  I sa. For it  very grand, but grand enoug, s smell to it, and a ed bed ains and a canopy of old moreen. I  sure t sleeping in a bed like t  make me sneeze: I t of all t and dead flies and spiders t must be gat looked as t  been taken doy years. t a nig—I folded t it beneato te. So muc t aged looking-glass, s t e black . I s ladies  leaves in t , for it  go no made t ened. Seeing t, I t again  Maud ainly  rid of ancient stuff like ter someto te and dainty.

    But one t Lant Street teacy goods. I got  and girlis, t to  flat; after t, t to. ther was a

    dressing-table. t re tles

    and pinst—I tidied too—and fitted beneat of fancy

    drae ones, in top dratens in

    t.

    t t  I guessed spelled out Mauds name. I so  t, h scissors and a pin.

    I did no suc left tly, and I  about til I oucudied it all t muco look at; but t tle  sat upon a table beside her bed.

    took it up it gave a dull sort of rattle. t it some, you only o ss like giving brine to an oyster. I used one of her hairpins.

    turned out to be lined  to squeak. I am not sure  to find in tleman, some keepsake, some letter, some little bill-and-coo. But ure portrait, in a frame of gold yle from ty years before, and t look muc I t it a pretty safe bet t s t, if s  Maud kept ure locked up in a box, and did not .

    I puzzled so long over turning ture, looking for marks, t took it up, like everyt t  , or Mrs Stiles—so tch me

    standing by trait in my  back in its place, and made it fast again.

    t to make a pick-lock . I s o  and t me a thief.

    to do, after I . I stood some more at t eleven oclock a maid brougray. Miss Maud isnt ea-pot; but tea  in fairy-sips, to make it last took tray back doo save t into tcared and the cook said,

    ell, I never! If you t aint quick enoug speak to Mrs Stiles. But Im sure, Miss Fee never called anyone idle.

    Miss Fee  sick ina. It seemed very cruel to be supposed prouder trying to be kind.

    But I said not, Miss Maud likes me, if you dont! For so  ime to pass, not for its o as it ake me back to her.

    At least at Briar you alruck, and to tairs and  til one of t by, and so t  floor, t you reac aircase and a  it  you t you ures ood and put my fingers to its little eeting to , but slo be reading to her uncle from a book.

    ted my  for me to enter.

    I sa: sting at a desk tle ly by, but s beside a s ts lig. Above s glass  upon it. All about unning amount. ories does one man need? I looked at t e gloves and drehem back on.

    So , to t, because of t see. A cross voice said,

    is it?

    I pused  sat Mr Lilly, Mauds old uncle; and to describe o tell everything.

    coat, and a velvet cap, t ub of red ting from it  ained all over  be stained obacco. e.  ongue—t  black, from w o urning pages.

    hem he had a pair of glasses, shaded green. he saw me and said,

    he devil are you?

    Maud  ttons at .

    tly. Miss Smith.

    Behemselves up and grow damper.

    Miss Smit me but talking to , like t one?

    I dont know, said Maud. I  asked , Susan?

    I didnt kno  I said, No, miss. I dont think so.

    Mr Lilly at once put his hand across his ear.

    I dont care for  s? Cant s?

    Maud smiled. She can, Uncle, she said.

    turbing me now?

    So fetch me.

    to fetche clock sound?

    o tcoat and dre an ancient great gold repeater, tilting o catc Maud, ill fumbling ening of ook a step, meaning to  -s came ongue.

    the finger!

    o me, and sil ter t t underneate black, and so guessed en. But at t moment range, and spoke so s quite failed me. I t  be prone to fits. I took anotep, and t made ill  last Maud came to me and touched my arm.

    Dont be afraid, sly.  my feet, t into t, a flat brass ing finger.

    Uncle does not care to s eyes upon  no servant advance furto this mark here.

    Soe of er.

    Does s? said her uncle.

    Yes  soe. S very ime—s you, Susan?

    Yes, miss, I said— I s; for it ainly neo me, t gazing at a line of print could spoil it. But  t? Besides  t anyt rue. Yes, miss, I said, a second time; and then: Yes, sir.

    tsey. Mr Lilly snorted, looking  me tened urned to leave him.

    Make , Maud, he door behind us.

    I will, Uncle, she murmured.

    Noook me round taircase to t of lunc, and coffee in anot; but w Cook  up, she made a face.

    Eggs, s, like you must be.  did you think of my uncle, Susan?

    I said, Im sure hes very clever, miss.

    he is.

    And ing, I believe, a great big dictionary?

    Sionary, yes. A great many years labour. e are presently at F.

    So see  of t.

    Astonishing, I said.

    S a spoon to t of took its  te and yello and made anot it from  eat t eat tter.

    t knoe t caking bites of bread and sips of coffee, and once

    rubbing for a minute at a spot upon  te!

    I sa mark, til t came to take tray ao e again—so  a neer, as I put coal on  t te, and they looked like gloves for a doll.

    Sainly, t you   Lant Street? I did not t ty lonely, and pretty bookis be, in a ?  to tening rain, but so go out ood at ttle black press, looking over s, s and s. t killed nearly an s w.  her hands upon mine and said,

    Be slower. o here?

    S her eyes were sad. I said, No, miss.

    In t on a pale grey cloak, and over tens. Stle leat ready, t tle of er, and scissors: s saying  to cut flo staircase to to ts.  outside ood blinking, our  our eyes against tery sun. t sa, at nighe

    fog and I so say it seemed less grim  seemed   nos cs roof s. It ains  t of trunks of ivy. It  front door, split do rain o press , and e sideo leave t all.

    It o see epping out of t gloomy place, like a pearl coming out of an oyster.

    It o cer s at her back.

    But t muco stay for, out in t avenue of trees, t led up to t of gravel t t in. t grely nettles; and an overgro ttle stone  cross to tand and gaze at til s tarted a muddy lane, t led you to a s-up old red c, quietest place I ever sao go to it, but Maud took t en. For at t one tomb, t her.

    S and look at t for an  a time,  for gat only for keeping do gre it; and ters of lead s o take off stains.

    Sil  me  first day, wried, she said,

    It is a daugy, to tend to t ch me.

    So I left o it, and ombs. ts made it ring. I  of my o  give graves to murderesses. t their bodies in quicklime.

    Did you ever pour salt on to do it, and to see to me once,

    Your mot. Sen men died t smelt it!

    again. I took up a pair of kitc to . And thing!

    I wondered  bad blood flowed in me.

    But s to ask. S, gazing  amped my feet. t last s her, passed her hand across her eyes, and drew up her hood.

    ts tle further.

    So t ran alongside a  took you to t see t landing-place tted atle upturned punt t made a kind of seat. ts er very quiet and muddy and filled ing fiso t ter. I supposed sened of snakes. t, and sat ip of it pressed against h.

    I sat beside  cold, and so quiet it  thin.

    Pretty stretcer, I said, for politeness sake.

    A barge  by. toucs. Iwaved.

    Bound  for London, said Maud, looking after them.

    London?

    S t?—-t t trifling bit of er  s t ill, t it o c folloer; t passed from sigs engine faded, ts c. till sat ip of t ook up stones and began to to ter. Sc,  every splaso the house.

    e  back to  out a bit of se  to be a tableclot. I never sac. It made me nervous. e sat togettering fire, and talked in a   greo rattle o myself, Dear God, let Gentleman come soon! I t my eye. t made me ya s ucked up  and laid o sleep.

    ts all to do til truck seven.  s o  co h her uncle.

    S took my dinner in tcs. told me

    t,  and read to

    read? I asked.  let s   —fears ss  keeps ime in gloves.

    ts enougiles.  . I sat and t about Mr Lilly, er, ongue; and t Maud, fro would make a girl like .

    I t I kne ening to ts talk, not saying muciles asked me, So come and take my pudding ry? I supposed I ougo. I sat gazing at ture made all of  every story—t  bulls breaking fences, or parsons making interesting sermons in ciles s e a match for London, news-wise!

    Above  sound of laug chen.

    t ruck, and immediately after it ts bell sounded; and t meant t Mr Lilly o be seen by Mr ay into  Maud o be put by me into hers.

    I almost lost my  even so, when she saw me she said,

    Is t you, Susan? You are quicker too. I dont think a girl can be hand-

    some—__do you?— nor her. I

    so be dark, Susan!

    Sh her supper, and I had had beer. I should

    ay ipsy. Sand

    beside  t silvery glass above her fireplace, and drew my

    o o compare the

    darker, she said.

    to put o gown.

    It  muccer all. Sood sy as everye. Stripping a lady is  eel; , as I t tors speak against, t gives a girl an illness. cs net, ticoats and s all,  and smootter. too soft, I t er  its sood in ockings igurned, and looked at o tom,  from tatue on a pillar in a park. So pale so shine.

    But again, it roubling kind of paleness, and I o cover idied o t and ed, yao come and brush her hair.

    do  migch.

    are you tress? as her hair handsomer?

    she walked well. Do I walk well? You do, miss.

    S  beside o compare them.

    Yours is almost as neat, she said kindly.

    S into  care to lie in darkness. S in a tin s beside  it from t let me tie tains of  tle  s see into the room beyond.

    And you , e close your door? so. I didnt like it, before you came,  in a co call  touc your toucle.

    S o feel t of o button anote pair back on. took ucked . I pulled t perfectly smoot be all, miss?

    Yes, Susan, s like t  it back, and it snaked ao sraight and dark and slender as a rope.

    ook my candle off, t by t  tle  furtood and rubbed my face. I  Briar only a day; but it  day of my life. My , now I had undressed her.

    At last I sat and ble my candle; and  a sound in t in   it to ttle  t up. I t, ell, I can be silent, if you cant. I am softer to t of tained bed, and rait of tcrait to , and spoke soft, sad o it. t it from  t t to look in t it neatly on table— touc once, touc tain and ill.

    I greoo tired to coo. My room  beneathem; and lay cold as a frog in my own narrow ladys maids bed.

    I cannot say  for t say,

    knoe or to Mauds room and sa lig I kne dreaming.  I ,  crasant of my opening my eyes, t as I lifted my  my  beat   in a ened voice. She was calling on her old maid:

    Agnes! Oh! Oh! Agnes!

    I didnt knoo ed  ting t t still rattled, e unbroken; and to tains s all bunch her chin and her

    , range.  I knes Sue, miss.

    S sound? Is t? there? A man? she said. A man? A burglar?

    At t go, Agnes! Im afraid ened, so frig t me try and light a candle.

    But ried to lig in a tin s get to catc on, il my  eady.

    I said, You must be quiet, miss. to come and catch him.

    I took up t. Dont take t! s once. I beg you, dont!

    I said I ake it to to s and clutc t  to to  open.

    t bits of furniture sat , like ts   o be murdered by burglars. And o be a man I knew—say, one of Mr Ibbss nep do happen.

    So I stood gazing fearfully at to call out—in case t t I  of course, t  as a c, and t quickly to to t

    was

    , too—ticking of some clock, far-off and more rattling  after all it  quite Pleasant, standing in a nig, in a great dark silent , t didnt  cer-

    tainly s. I closed t back to Mauds oom and closed t door, and stepped to t t down.

    Shere?

    I  to ans topped. For I orange te and gleaming, t  t I, t Ive a ion? I ain t t to  me. My  leapt so o my mouto taste it. I screamed, and Maud screamed, tc me and   look at me! s leave me! Dont leave me!

    And t te t to foot and almost laughed.

    For it  from  t  steps he springs bounce.

    I sa, as I say, and almost laug  o let  my  beteeto cter. I han ever.

    I said, Its noter all, its nothing. You was only dreaming.

    Dreaming, Agnes?

    S  my bosom, and sil she grew calm.

    t me put t about you, look.

    But wo lay  leave me, Agnes! she said again.

    I said, Its Sue, miss. Agnes ina, and is gone back to Cork. Remember? You must lie dooo.

    S me t ill so dark, seemed yet a little clearer.

    Dont leave me, Sue! she whispered. Im afraid, of my own dreaming!

    . er. In a feime, I t— if our plot o hen?

    So I put  only for a moment; and I clambered over  beneats at  my arm about  once s me. It seemed t t I could do. I pulled  like Mrs Sucksby. Not like Mrs Sucksby, at all. Sill stle, and  my t, like featime, opped, and  again and till. She grew heavy, and warm.

    Good girl, I said, too softly to wake her.

    Next morning I e before sroubled, and tried to .

    Did my dreams ? s meeting my gaze. Did I say foolis o come and keep me company!

    I didnt tell  t eig off to  one I  to fetcaking care, time, to mind ting finger on to the river; she sewed, and dozed, and was

    rung to  iles until  nine, ime to go back up and put o bed. It  t day, over again. S, and laid ood in my room and tle box unlocked, and peeped to cake up trait, kiss it, t it away.

    And t put out my candle tes, before ly: Sue—!

    S sleep. So keep me close to ened.

    S nig after t. You dont mind? s Mayfair?

    could I tell  migress and o double up like girls.

    It  first, , quite like sisters. Quite like sisters, indeed. I aled a sister.

    tleman came.