Then again Mrs. Perks' eyes rested on the unhappy Miriam. She was too attractive altogether, despite her pitiful state, to please the good widow.
"That being so then, Mrs. Perks, you must allow me to say, 'don't be a fool!' Had I not had you in my mind as a thoroughly reliable and sensible woman, I should not have brought this young lady here."
Mrs. Perks snorted. It was not quite so sonorous a snort as that with which the policeman had accompanied his repetition of the word "lady," but it meant exactly the same thing. There was a world of contempt in it. Mr. Barton continued:
"But I feel sure, Mrs. Perks, I have not been mistaken in my estimate of your sound common-sense. Let me tell you that this lady has preserved my life—yes, Mrs. Perks, my life, and my purse. There are, I may say, other reasons for my bringing her here, but that I think should suffice for you. She has saved my life, Mrs. Perks. You will be so good therefore as to send something to eat, and a bottle of wine here, and to prepare the young lady's room."
"Oh, Mr. Bartons, so you was in danger! I know'd it. I felt sure of it." She pressed the candlestick she carried so close to her that for a moment her curl papers were in imminent danger of conflagration. "Didn't I see a windin' sheet in the wick o' the candle? didn't I 'ear the 'owlin' of a dog? Yes, Mr. Bartons, I did, and wot's more, when I tossed a coin to see if it was true, it came up 'eads, which, as is well-known, means death."
"Well, I am really very sorry to be the cause of dispersing such overwhelming and convincing phenomena, Mrs. Perks; but, as you see, I'm alive, and what's more I am exceedingly hungry. Now run along, there's a good soul, and let us have something to eat."
With a final wave of her candlestick, Mrs. Perks retreated, muttering,
"If you was a kinder-'earted sort, Mr. Bartons, I could understand it; but you ain't. It's well-known as a flint's putty to you, and I'm puzzled at your goin's on, I am. Kindness—no, don't tell me; it ain't no kindness. She ain't got no weddin'-ring neither. But food and drink they wants anyhow, so food and drink they must 'ave, I suppose."
Mr. Barton poked the remnant of the fire. There was an unpleasant expression in his eye, as he looked at the exhausted woman before him. Mrs. Perks was unusually trying to-night. Miriam was leaning back now. Her eyes were closed and her head drooped. She was an intensely pitiable object. But there was no pity in Mr. Barton's expression as he looked at her—no glimmer of it. He was scrutinising her searchingly, cruelly. His gaze was something more than intense. She woke with a start.
"Don't speak," he said, as he saw her lips part. "Not a word—you are much too weak to talk. After you have had something, then I'll talk to you."