But, as she rose to leave the room at her tyrant’s bidding, she spoke a word of comfort. “A friend of mine, Miss Mackenzie, lives next door to you, and she has begged me to say that she will do herself the pleasure of calling on you, if you will allow her.”

The poor woman hesitated as she made her little speech, and once cast her eye round in fear upon her companion.

“I’m sure I shall be delighted,” said Miss Mackenzie.

“That’s Miss Todd, is it?” said Mrs Stumfold; and it was made manifest by Mrs Stumfold’s voice that Mrs Stumfold did not think much of Miss Todd.

“Yes; Miss Todd. You see she is so close a neighbour,” said Miss Baker, apologetically.

Mrs Stumfold shook her head, and then went away without further speech.

Miss Mackenzie became at once impatient for Miss Todd’s arrival, and was induced to keep an eye restlessly at watch on the two neighbouring doors in the Paragon, in order that she might see Miss Todd at the moment of some entrance or exit. Twice she did see a lady come out from the house next her own on the right, a stout jolly-looking dame, with a red face and a capacious bonnet, who closed the door behind her with a slam, and looked as though she would care little for either male Stumfold or female. Miss Mackenzie, however, made up her mind that this was not Miss Todd. This lady, she thought, was a married lady; on one occasion there had been children with her, and she was, in Miss Mackenzie’s judgment, too stout, too decided, and perhaps too loud to be a spinster. A full week passed by before this question was decided by the promised visit,—a week during which the new comer never left her house at any hour at which callers could be expected to call, so anxious was she to become acquainted with her neighbour; and she had almost given the matter up in despair, thinking that Mrs Stumfold had interfered with her tyranny, when, one day immediately after lunch—in these days Miss Mackenzie always lunched, but seldom dined—when one day immediately after lunch, Miss Todd was announced.

Miss Mackenzie immediately saw that she had been wrong. Miss Todd was the stout, red-faced lady with the children. Two of the children, girls of eleven and thirteen, were with her now. As Miss Todd walked across the room to shake hands with her new acquaintance, Miss Mackenzie at once recognised the manner in which the street door had been slammed, and knew that it was the same firm step which she had heard on the pavement half down the Paragon.

“My friend, Miss Baker, told me you had come to live next door to me,” began Miss Todd, “and therefore I told her to tell you that I should come and see you. Single ladies, when they come here, generally like some one to come to them. I’m single myself, and these are my nieces. You’ve got a niece, I believe, too. When the Popes have nephews, people say all manner of ill-natured things. I hope they ain’t so uncivil to us.”