“Of course not. Only just knew you were coming.”
“Then ring for the landlord; I shall now continue the search myself. I have been much to blame in leaving it in other hands so long. But a weak woman—”
“Who is?” said Tom, innocently.
“I am, sir,” replied her ladyship. “I was not aware, when I entrusted the search to my husband and son, that it was to be made an excuse for a pleasant and expensive continental tour, with no results whatever but the shrinking of a good balance at the bank, and a fit of gout?”
“Oh, bosh!” ejaculated Tom.
“No more gadding about; no more Burgundy and strong drinks. I mean to find that wretched girl myself; the authorities shall intervene, and I will do my duty as a mother.”
“What shall you do?”
“Place her in a madhouse as sure as I stand here.”
“Then you will not,” said Tom, “for you’re sitting.”
“Reserve your ribald jestings, sir, till we return to town.”