"Oh, my bonny Arthur," she said under her breath. "Oh, what your poor, poor mother must have suffered."
When the carriage came to the door Mrs. Ellsworthy gave the coachman Noel's address, and the two women drove there at once. They were fortunate in finding the young man within. He too was engaged to dine out that night, but he did not go. Hannah, Mrs. Ellsworthy, and he had a long conference, which lasted until late in the evening, and when Mr. Ellsworthy joined them he was told a very wonderful story. Hannah returned to Devonshire on the following morning very well pleased with her successful expedition.
"If there had been any doubt," she said to herself, as she was being whirled homewards in her third-class carriage, "if there had been any doubt after the sight of that mole on his dear, blessed arm, why, the little shirt which Mrs. Ellsworthy showed me, and which she took off his back herself after them horses had all but killed him, would prove that he's my own boy. Could I ever forget marking that shirt in cross-stitch, and making such a bungle over the A, and thinking I'd put Mainwaring in full, and then getting lazy, and only making the mark A.M.? Well, I was served out for that piece of laziness, for my boy might have been brought back to his mother but for it. Dear, dear! Well, there's no mistaking my own A.M., and when I peered close with my glasses on I could even see where I unpicked the A. and did it over again. Dear, dear, shall I ever forgive myself for not doing the surname in full—his poor, poor mother! Well, I mustn't think of that—it's a merciful Providence that has led me to him now, and he's as darling and elegant a young man as ever I clapped eyes on, and as fond of the young ladies as can be even now.
"'I always felt somehow as if they were my sisters,' he said to me. Well, well, God be praised for his mercies."
CHAPTER LV.
AN INVITATION FOR THE LADIES OF PENELOPE MANSION.
"There are limits to all things," said Mrs. Mortlock; "there's a time, as the blessed Bible says, to sorrow, and a time to rejoice, and what I say too is, that there is a time when a woman's patience may be exhausted. Yes, Mrs. Dredge, you may look at me with as round eyes as you please—I know they are round though I can't see them, but I will say, if it's my last dying breath, that the moment for my 'continual reader' to return has arrived. Miss Slowcum, no doubt you'll corroborate what I say, ma'am."
"It's hot weather for young bright flowers to shed their fragrance on the London streets," replied Miss Slowcum; "it's the kind of weather when flowers fade. I should imagine, Mrs. Mortlock, that your 'continual reader' was doing better for herself in the country."
Mrs. Mortlock's face became very red.