A few days after this, as Euphemia and I were going to the Tower of London in a Hansom cab—­and it was one of Euphemia’s greatest delights to be bowled over the smooth London pavements in one of these vehicles, with the driver out of sight, and the horse in front of us just as if we were driving ourselves, only without any of the trouble, and on every corner one of the names of the streets we had read about in Dickens and Thackeray, and with the Sampson Brasses, and the Pecksniffs, and the Mrs. Gamps, and the Guppys, and the Sir Leicester Dedlocks, and the Becky Sharps, and the Pendennises, all walking about just as natural as in the novels—­we were surprised to see Pomona hurrying along the sidewalk alone.  The moment our eyes fell upon her a feeling of alarm arose within us.  Where was she going with such an intent purpose in her face, and without Jonas?  She was walking westward, and we were going to the east.  At Euphemia’s request I stopped the cab, jumped out, and ran after her, but she had disappeared in the crowd.

“She is up to mischief,” said Euphemia.

But it was of no use to worry our minds on the subject, and we soon forgot, in the ancient wonders of the Tower, the probable eccentricities of our modern handmaid.

We returned; night came on; but Pomona was still absent.  Jonas did not know where she was, and was very much troubled; and the baby, which had been so skilfully kept in the background by its mother that, so far, it had never annoyed us at all, now began to cry, and would not be comforted.  Euphemia, with the assistance of Jonas, prepared the evening meal, and when we had nearly eaten it, Pomona came home.  Euphemia asked no questions, although she was burning with curiosity to know where Pomona had been, considering that it was that young woman’s duty to inform her without being asked.

When Pomona came in to wait on us, she acted as if she expected to be questioned, and was perfectly willing to answer, but Euphemia stood upon her dignity, and said nothing.  At last Pomona could endure it no longer, and standing with a tray in her hand, she exclaimed:—­

“I’m sorry I made you help git the dinner, ma’am, and I wouldn’t ‘a’ done it for anything, but the fact is I’ve been to see a lord, an’ was kep’ late.”

“What!” cried Euphemia, springing to her feet; “you don’t mean that!”

And I was so amazed that I sat and looked at Pomona without saying a word.

“Yes,” cried Pomona, her eyes sparkling with excitement, “I’ve seen a lord, and trod his floors, and I’ll tell you all about it.  You know I was boun’ to do it, and I wanted to go alone, for if Jone was with me he’d be sure to put in some of his queer sayin’s an’ ten to one hurt the man’s feelin’s, and cut off the interview.  An’ as Jone said this afternoon he felt tired, with some small creeps in his back, an’ didn’t care to go out, I knew my time had come, and said I’d go for a walk.  Day before yesterday I went up to a policeman an’ I asked him if he could tell me if a lord, or a earl, or a duke lived anywhere near here.  First he took me for crazy, an’ then he began to ask questions which he thought was funny, but I kep’ stiff to the mark, an’ I made him tell me where a lord did live,—­about five blocks from here.  So I fixed things all ready an’ today I went there.”