“How?”

“Why, to get Andrew Dean for ye, seeing as ye’re so fixed on him, wi’ as little gossip as maybe.”

“Oh!  So Mrs. Prockter has kindly consented to get Andrew Dean for me!  And how does she mean to do it?”

James had no alternative; he was obliged to relate how Mrs. Prockter meant to do it.

“Now, uncle,” said Helen, “just listen to me.  If Mrs. Prockter says a single word about me to any one, I will never speak either to her or you again.  Mind!  A single word!  A nice thing that she should go up to Swetnam’s, and hint that Andrew and Emanuel have been fighting because of me!  What about my reputation?  And do you suppose that I want the leavings of Lilian Swetnam?  Me!  The idea is preposterous!”

“You wanted ’em badly enough this afternoon,” said he.

“No, I didn’t,” she contradicted him passionately.  “You are quite mistaken.  You misunderstood me, though I’m surprised that you should have done.  Perhaps I was a little excited this afternoon.  Certainly you were thinking about other things.  I expect you were expecting Mrs. Prockter this evening.  It would have been nicer of you to have told me she was coming.”

“Now, please let it be clearly understood,” she swept on.  “You must go down and tell Mrs. Prockter at once that you were entirely in error, and that she is on no account to breathe a word about me to any one.  Whatever you were both thinking of I cannot imagine!  But I can assure you I’m extremely annoyed.  Mrs. Prockter putting her finger in the pie!...  Let her take care that I don’t put my finger into her pie!  I always knew she was a gossiping old thing, but, really—­”

“Mr. Ollerenshaw!” A prettily plaintive voice rose from the black depths below.

“There! she’s getting impatient for you!” Helen snapped.  “Run off to her at once.  To think that if I hadn’t happened to hear the bell ring, and come out to see what was the matter, I should have been the talk of Bursley before I was a day older!”

She picked up the candle.

“I must have a light!” said James, somewhat lamely.

“Why?” Helen asked, calmly.  “If you could begin in the dark, why can’t you finish in the dark?  You and she seem to like being in the dark.”

“Mr. Ollerenshaw!” The voice was a little nearer.

“Her’s coming!” James ejaculated.

Helen seemed to lose her courage before that threat.

“Here!  Take this one, then!” said she, giving James her candle, and fleeing down the corridor.

James had the sensation of transacting a part in a play at a theatre where the scenery was absolutely realistic and at the same time of a romantic quality.  Moonlight streaming in through the windows of the interminable corridor was alone wanting to render the illusion perfect.  It was certainly astonishing—­what you could buy with seven thousand two hundred and fifty pounds!  Perhaps the most striking portion of the scenery was Helen’s peignoir.  He had not before witnessed her in a peignoir.  The effect of it was agreeable; but, indeed, the modern taste for luxury was incredible!  He wondered if Mrs. Prockter practised similar extravagances.