"But how did you find out, Matthew, dear?"
"Oh! we aldermen find out everything. The girl was brought up in the country, near Sing-Sing, in a cedar-post cottage that the executor wanted to raise some money on. I went up to see it, and had a good look at the girl. Yes, my dear, she was, to say, very handsome, but proud. Daniel Yates had brought her up like a queen, and I give you my word she looked it; but there was no mistake about it. The executor had just gobbled up everything Yates left, and there was no one to look after him, so that the girl was just nowhere financially. I found out that the cottage could not be sold or mortgaged, nor let either, according to law, though the executor tried it on hard, and came again and again about it, especially after she left it. So I found out everything about the girl. That primer donner took a fancy to her, and adopted her right out of hand because of her voice, and to-morrow night you can both of you see her, for I mean to have a box up among the British arrestocracy that night, and I invite you both free gratis for nothing."
"Are you sure of this?" questioned Hepworth, who had not spoken till now.
"Just as sure as I am that Alderman Stacy sits before you. But if you don't believe it, ask the girl yourself. I mean to call on her, and Mrs. Stacy will do likewise. You can go along. That is, we will call, if she comes out first chop on Monday night."
"Mr. Stacy," said the superb matron in the back seat, drawing herself up with wonderful dignity, "I don't mean to put on airs nor nothing because I'm your lady and richer than some folks, or Mr. Hepworth wouldn't be an honored guest in this here carriage; but I must set my foot square aginst actresses and primmer donners—in short, theatre-clers in general."
"Just you hear that," said Stacy, looking at Hepworth. "Isn't she coming it down strong, and lifting of her head high?"
"It isn't that, Mr. Stacy, but because I am a wife and a—a woman—that I feel called upon to stand between them creturs and the sect. Pay them your money, Mr. Stacy—pay them any amount of money from the front—but nothing beyond that, Mr. Stacy!"
"Oh, humbug," said Mr. Stacy; "that is putting it too strong, Harriet—as if I couldn't pay money or not, just as I please."
"It isn't humbug, Mr. Stacy, but a question of benignant morality, which it is every woman's duty to take up and hurl back, till she totters on the brink, martyr-like, between heaven and earth! Don't you think so, Mr. Hepworth?"
"Did you ever hear anything up to that?" exclaimed Stacy, swelling with pompous satisfaction. "Harriet is the sort of woman that a man of substance can depend on, morrerly, financierly, and—and—. Not that I'm going to give in, you know; but it's satisfaction to know that your money has lifted such a person into her proper spear."