When I was a very little girl I knew an old woman who told me that if a person was really good at heart, the holy angels would allow that person, in the course of her life, twelve fibs without charge, provided they was told for the good of somebody and not to do harm.  Now at such a moment as this I could not remember how many fibs of that kind I had left over to my credit, but I knew there must be at least one, and so I didn’t hesitate a second.  “They have gone to the Cat and Fiddle,” said I.  “I heard them tell their bath-chair men so, as they urged them forward at the top of their speed.  They stopped for a second here, sir, and I heard the gentleman send a cabman for a clergyman, post haste, to meet them at the Cat and Fiddle.”

[Illustration:  TO THE CAT AND FIDDLE]

If the sky had been lighted up by the eruption of Snortfrizzle’s nose I should not have been surprised.

“The fools!  They can’t!  Cat and Fiddle!  But they can’t be half way there.  Martin, to the Cat and Fiddle!”

The man touched his hat.  “But I couldn’t do that, sir.  I couldn’t run to the Cat and Fiddle.  It’s long miles, sir.  Shall I get a carriage?”

“Carriage!” cried the old man, and then he began to look about him.

Horror struck me.  Perhaps they would go to the station for one!  Just then a boy driving a pony and a grocery cart came up.

“There you are, sir,” I cried.  “Hire that boy to tow you.  Your butler can sit in the back of the cart and hold the handle of your bath-chair.  It may take long to get a carriage, and the cart will go much faster.  You may overtake them in a mile.”

Old Snortfrizzle never so much as thanked me or looked at me.  He yelled to the boy in the cart, offered him ten shillings and sixpence to give him a tow, and in less time than I could take to write it, that flunky with a high hat was sitting in the tail of the cart, the pony was going at full gallop, and the old man’s bath-chair was spinning on behind it at a great rate.

I did not leave that spot—­standing statue-like and looking along both roads—­until I heard the rumble of the departing train, and then I repaired to the Old Hall, my soul uplifted.  I found Jone in an awful fluster about my being out so late; but I do stay pretty late sometimes when I walk by myself, and so he hadn’t anything new to say.

Letter Number Twenty

EDINBURGH

We have been here five or six days now, but the first thing I must write is the rest of the story of the lovers.  We left Buxton the next day after their flight, and I begged Jone to stop at Carlisle and let us make a little trip to Gretna Green.  I wanted to see the place that has been such a well-spring of matrimonial joys, and besides, I thought we might find Pomeroy and Angelica still there.

I had not seen old Snortfrizzle again, but late that night I had heard a row in the hotel, and I expect it was him back from the Cat and Fiddle.  Whether he was inquiring for me or not I don’t know, or what he was doing, or what he did.