"Would you please to say who you want?" The young woman was not over polite.
"I have come up from the country to see my sister-in-law, Mary Mitchell. I beg your pardon, my dear, if I rang the wrong bell."
"Mrs. Mitchell don't live here," was the short reply.
"Not live here! Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean what I say; are you deaf? Mrs. Mitchell left here near upon six months ago."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Rowles, much astonished; "I never thought of such a thing. Whatever shall I do? And all this green stuff to carry back again."
"Can't you take it to her?" asked the young woman more gently.
"I don't know where she has gone to. Australia most likely."
"Australia, indeed! She has only gone to the other end of the street, No. 103. And when you can't pay your rent, and three weeks running on to four, what can you expect from your landlord?"
The door was closed, and Mrs. Rowles left standing on the step, greatly shocked and agitated. Had the Mitchells been turned out by their landlord for not paying their rent? Had they grown dishonest? Had Mitchell taken to drink? What could it mean?