sions she had forgotten that her
name was Perkins, and when Mrs Yabsley dryly commented on this, she
confessed that she had borrowed the name from her maid when she fled.
And she whispered her real name in the ear of Mrs Yabsley, who
marvelled, and promised to keep the secret.

Mrs Yabsley, who was no fool, looked for some proof of the story, and
was satisfied. The girl was young and pretty, and gave herself the
airs of a duchess. Mrs Swadling, indeed, had spent so much of her time
at the cottage trying to worm her secret from the genteel stranger that
she unconsciously imitated her aristocratic manner and way of talking,
until Mr Swadling had brought her to her senses by getting drunk and
giving her a pair of black eyes, which destroyed all resemblance to the
fascinating stranger. Mrs Swadling had learned nothing, but she
assured half the street that Miss Perkins's father had turned her out
of doors for refusing to marry a man old enough to be her father, and
the other half that a forged will had robbed her of thousands and a
carriage and pair.

Cardigan Street had watched the aristocracy from the gallery of the
theatre with sharp, envious eyes, and reported their doings to Mrs
Yabsley, but Miss Perkins was the first specimen she had ever seen in
the flesh. In a week she learned more about the habits of the idle rich
than she had ever imagined in a lifetime. Her lodger lay in bed till
ten in the morning, and expected to be waited on hand and foot. And
when Mrs Yabsley could spare a minute, she described in detail the
splendours of her father's home. She talked incessantly of helping Mrs
Yabsley with the washing, but she seemed as helpless as a child, and
Mrs Yabsley, noticing the softness and whiteness of her hands, knew
that she had never done a stroke of work in her life. Then, with the
curious reverence of the worker for the idler, she explained to her
lodger that she only worked for exercise.

When Miss Perkins came, she had nothing but what she stood up in; but
one night she slipped out under cover of darkness, and returned with a
dress-basket full of finery, with which she dazzled Mrs Yabsley's eyes
in the seclusion of the cottage. The basket also contained a number of
pots and bottles with which she spent hours before the mirror, touching
up her eyebrows and cheeks and lips. When Mrs Yabsley remarked bluntly
that she was young and pretty enough without these aids, she learned
with amazement that all