For a moment she stared at him with doubt in her eyes; then, as if reassured, her lips parted in a very faint smile, and she made a slight motion with her head which he was fain to take as a sign of her trust.

He had reached the door, when by a weak gesture she called him back again.

“If—­if you should meet anybody—­I’m expecting Granny all the time—­I’m sure she wouldn’t leave me altogether like this—­you will come back all the same, won’t you?”

Her earnestness over this matter had given her back a little strength.  She leaned forward over one arm of the chair, impressing her words upon him with a bend of the head.

“Oh, no, I shan’t mind Granny,” replied Max, confidently.

“Well, you wouldn’t mind her if she was in a good humor,” went on the girl, doubtfully, “but when she’s in a bad one, oh, well, then,” in a lowered voice of deep confidence, “I’m afraid of her myself!”

“That’s all right.  It would take more than an old woman to frighten me!  Tell me what she’s like and what her name is, and I can present myself to her as a morning caller.”

The girl seemed to have recovered altogether from her attack of faintness, since she was able to detain him thus from his proposed errand on her behalf.  She smiled again, less faintly than before, and shook her head.

“I don’t think there’s much to describe about Granny.  She was a housekeeper at old Mr. Horne’s house in the city, you know, and she looks just as old housekeepers always look.  Her name’s Mrs. Higgs.  But,” and the girl looked frightened again, “don’t tell her you’ve come to see me.  She’s very particular.  At least—­I mean—­”

A pretty confusion, a touch of hesitancy, the first sign of anything girlish which Max had seen in this strange creature, made her stop and turn her head away.  And, the effort of speaking over, she drooped again.

“I won’t be long.”

And Max, puzzled himself by the feelings he had toward this strange little white-bodied being, went through the outhouse into the open air.

Outside, he found himself staggering, he didn’t know why—­whether from the emotions he had experienced or from the clammy, close hair of the shut-up room; all he knew was that by the time he reached the public-house, which he had correctly foreseen was to be found at the corner, he felt quite as much in want of the brandy as his patient herself.

It occurred to him, as he stood in the bar, swallowing some fiery liquid of dubious origin which the landlord had sold to him as brandy, to make a casual inquiry about Mrs. Higgs.

“Yes,” said the landlord, “I do know a Mrs. Higgs.  She comes in here sometimes; she likes her glass.  But they know more about her at The Admiral’s Arms, Commercial Road way,” and he gave a nod of the head to indicate the direction of that neighborhood.

“Do you know her address?” asked Max.