Mudge had been quietly waiting for it.
"Yes," he answered, "something can be done. I should not have told you, Miss Mardale, what I knew unless I had already hit upon a means to avert the peril; for I am aware how much my news must grieve you."
Pamela looked at Mr. Mudge in surprise. It had not occurred to her at all that he could have solved the problem.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"You can leave the whole trouble in my hands for a few days."
Pamela was silent for a little while; then she answered doubtfully--
"It is most kind of you to offer me your help."
Mr. Mudge shook his head at Pamela with a certain sadness.
"There's no kindness in it at all," he said; "but I quite understand your hesitation, Miss Mardale. You were surprised that I should offer you help, just as you were surprised to see me here. Although I move in your world I am not of it. Its traditions, its instincts, even its methods of thought--to all of these I am a stranger. I am just a passing visitor who, for the time of his stay, is made an honorary member of your club. He meets with every civility, every kindness; but he is not inside, so that when he suddenly comes forward and offers you help in a matter where other members of your club are concerned, you naturally pause."
Pamela made a gesture of dissent; but Mr. Mudge gently insisted--