Elizabeth, wishing to shield the man she believed to be her father from any charge of unnatural dislike, said “Yes.”

“Then where you are is, of all places, the one he will avoid?”

Elizabeth nodded sadly.

Lucetta looked blank, twitched up her lovely eyebrows and lip, and burst into hysterical sobs.  Here was a disaster—­her ingenious scheme completely stultified.

“O, my dear Miss Templeman—­what’s the matter?” cried her companion.

“I like your company much!” said Lucetta, as soon as she could speak.

“Yes, yes—­and so do I yours!” Elizabeth chimed in soothingly.

“But—­but—­” She could not finish the sentence, which was, naturally, that if Henchard had such a rooted dislike for the girl as now seemed to be the case, Elizabeth-Jane would have to be got rid of—­a disagreeable necessity.

A provisional resource suggested itself.  “Miss Henchard—­will you go on an errand for me as soon as breakfast is over?—­Ah, that’s very good of you.  Will you go and order—­” Here she enumerated several commissions at sundry shops, which would occupy Elizabeth’s time for the next hour or two, at least.

“And have you ever seen the Museum?”

Elizabeth-Jane had not.

“Then you should do so at once.  You can finish the morning by going there.  It is an old house in a back street—­I forget where—­but you’ll find out—­and there are crowds of interesting things—­skeletons, teeth, old pots and pans, ancient boots and shoes, birds’ eggs—­all charmingly instructive.  You’ll be sure to stay till you get quite hungry.”

Elizabeth hastily put on her things and departed.  “I wonder why she wants to get rid of me to-day!” she said sorrowfully as she went.  That her absence, rather than her services or instruction, was in request, had been readily apparent to Elizabeth-Jane, simple as she seemed, and difficult as it was to attribute a motive for the desire.

She had not been gone ten minutes when one of Lucetta’s servants was sent to Henchard’s with a note.  The contents were briefly:—­

Dear Michael,—­You will be standing in view of my house to-day for two or three hours in the course of your business, so do please call and see me.  I am sadly disappointed that you have not come before, for can I help anxiety about my own equivocal relation to you?—­especially now my aunt’s fortune has brought me more prominently before society?  Your daughter’s presence here may be the cause of your neglect; and I have therefore sent her away for the morning.  Say you come on business—­I shall be quite alone.

Lucetta.

When the messenger returned her mistress gave directions that if a gentleman called he was to be admitted at once, and sat down to await results.