Beyond a passing sensation of annoyance that De Burgh should make a display of his acquaintance with Mrs. Needham and herself, this epistle made no impression on Katherine, who was glad to have an unusual amount of work for Mrs. Needham, who had started—­or rather promised her assistance in starting—­a new scheme for extracting wax candle out of peat.  Respecting this she was immensely sanguine, for the first time in her life she was to be properly remunerated for her trouble, and in a year or two would make her fortune.

The day flew past with welcome rapidity, and in the evening Katherine was swept off to a “first-night representation,” which, though by no means first-rate, helped to draw Katherine out of herself, and helped her to vanquish vain regrets.

“You’ll make a dozen copies of those notes please, dear,” said Mrs. Needham, as she stood dressed to go out after an early luncheon the following day, “and I’ll sign them when I come in; then there is the notice of the play for my Dullertoova letter, and be sure you send those extracts from the Weekly Review to Angela Bradley.  You know all the rest; if I am not home by seven don’t wait dinner for me.”

Katherine had scarcely settled to her task, when the servant entered to say that Lord De Burgh would be glad to speak to her, as he had a message from Mrs. Needham.

“How strange!” murmured Katherine, adding aloud, “Then show him in.”

“I have just met Mrs. Needham, and she told me to give you this,” said De Burgh, handing a card to Katherine as soon as she had shaken hands with him.  It was one of her own cards, and on the back was scribbled,

“Don’t mind the notes.”

“How extraordinary!” cried Katherine.  “I thought they were of the last importance.  What did she say to you? you must have met her directly she went out!”

“I think I did.  I was coming through the narrow part of Kensington, and was stopped by a block; just caught sight of your chief, and jumped out of my cab to have a word with her.  She told me I should find you, and gave me that.”  De Burgh went on:  “So this is the tremendous laboratory where Mrs. Needham forges her thunderbolts,” looking round with some curiosity.

“And where I forge my thunderbolts, said Katherine, laughing.

“Thunderbolts!” echoed De Burgh, looking keenly at her.  “No! where you launch the lightning that either withers or kindles life-giving flames.”

“Really, Lord De Burgh, you are positively poetical!  I never dreamed of your developing this faculty when you tried to teach me how to drive at Castleford.”

“No! it did not exist then—­now I want to tell you of the cause of its growth, you have silenced me often enough.  To-day I will speak, Katherine.”

“If you please, ’m—­there’s twopence to pay,” said the demure Ford, advancing with a letter.

Half amused and partly relieved by the interruption, Katherine sought for and produced the requisite coin, and then took the letter with a look of some anxiety.