On her introduction to him, she announced the object of her visit in the following manner. “It is a most unpleasant thing to me, Dr. Rowel, to have to call upon you on such a case of secrecy as the present. You are aware, doctor, that I have a boy about me over at the farm—”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted the doctor, “I know him well. Palethorpe, you mean?”
“Oh no, sir!—oh no!—not him—by no means. He is a middle-aged man, and a very honest one. No, no. I mean the boy that you attended a while ago—Colin Clink. That boy, sir, I am sorry to say, is as vicious and bad a character as ever crossed a threshold. I am sure, if he escapes the gallows at last, it will only be because he was born to be drowned. He has been hatching mischief of one sort or another every day since he came into the world, and now he has got to such a pitch—”
Here Miss Sowersoft bent her head towards the doctor, and whispered during the space of ten minutes, in so low a voice that nobody save the doctor himself could catch a word of what was said.
“You amaze me!” exclaimed the doctor.
“I assure you, doctor,'” she reiterated, “I believe every word I have said is as true as that you sit there.”
The doctor thanked Miss Sowersoft for her information, assured her two or three times over that he would make the best use of it, and very politely ended the conference by wishing her good morning.
Never, I verily believe, did any mischief-maker feel a greater degree of self-satisfaction than did Miss Sowersoft, as she returned to Whinmoor. What revenge should she not take when Colin was caught in the very fact of house-breaking, and when Fanny would be immediately involved in the same crime! The thought was so inspiriting, that she tripped along with a degree of briskness which would have induced any one who did not see her face to believe her at least twenty years the junior of herself.