“Fellow creatures in distress?” repeated Mrs. De Peyster.

“I was passing,” said he, “and chanced to overhear you say a moment since that you simply had to have money.”

Mrs. De Peyster’s face filled with suspicion.  “You have been listening all the while?”

“Possibly,” said Mr. Pyecroft, with the same bland smile.

“Eavesdropper!”

His smile did not alter.  “I did not hear very much, really.  Miss Thompson, may I beg the favor of a few minutes with you alone?”

“Most certainly not!”

“I am sure when you learn what it is, Miss Thompson, you would prefer that it be between yourself and myself.”

“Matilda, don’t go!”

He shrugged his shoulders pleasantly.  “I had really hoped that the matter might be between just you and me, Miss Thompson.  However, if you prefer Miss Perkins”—­Matilda’s name at Mrs. Gilbert’s—­“to be present, yours is the right to command.  Shall we be seated?”

Matilda had already subsided upon her couch.  Mrs. De Peyster sank into one of the chairs.  The Reverend Mr. Pyecroft drew the other up to face her and sat down.

“Miss Thompson,” he began, “I have a very serious proposition to lay before you.”

Mrs. De Peyster shrank away.  An awful premonition burst upon her.  It was coming!  This impudent, pompous, philandering clergyman was about to propose to her!  To her! She gave a swift horrified glance at Matilda, who gave back a look of sympathetic understanding.

Then Mrs. De Peyster’s horror at the indignity changed to horror of quite another sort; for the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft was leaning confidentially close to her, eyes into hers, and was saying in a low voice:—­

“I suppose, Miss Thompson, you are not aware how much you look like a certain great lady, a famous social leader?  To be explicit, like Mrs. De Peyster?”

She sank back, mere jelly with a human contour.  So she was discovered!  She rolled her eyes wildly toward Matilda; Matilda rolled wild eyes toward her.

“It is really a remarkable likeness,” went on the low voice of the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft.  “I’ve seen Mrs. De Peyster, you know; not more than six yards away; and the likeness struck me the very moment I saw you.  You haven’t the grand-duchess dignity she had on when I saw her—­say, but you should have seen the figure she made!—­but it’s a wonderful coincidence.  Dressed right, and with some lofty spirit pumped into you, you could pass anywhere as Mrs. De Peyster, provided they did not know Mrs. De Peyster too intimately.  That likeness is the foundation of my proposition.”

[Illustration:  “IT IS REALLY A REMARKABLE LIKENESS”]

Mrs. De Peyster stared at him, and began to clutch at consciousness.  After all, was it possible that he hadn’t recognized her as Mrs. De Peyster?  Perhaps he hadn’t—­for every one knew Mrs. De Peyster was abroad, and, furthermore, all the social world yawned inimitably between Mrs. De Peyster and this apparent nobody that she was, in an obscure boarding-house, and in a housekeeper’s gown.  But if he hadn’t recognized her, then what was he driving at?