e of
responsibility, and became once more the delightful companion who won
everybody's love. The effervescent gaiety of the evening was at its
climax; the awful forms of duty, propriety, and good sense had been long
since laughed out of the room--when Nemesis, goddess of retribution,
announced her arrival outside, by a crashing of carriage-wheels and a
peremptory ring at the cottage bell.

There was dead silence; Amelius and Sally looked at each other. The
experienced Toff at once guessed what had happened. "Is it her father or
mother?" he asked of Amelius, a little anxiously. Hearing that she had
never even seen her father or mother, he snapped his fingers joyously,
and led the way on tiptoe into the hall. "I have my idea," he whispered.
"Let us listen."

A woman's voice, high, clear, and resolute, speaking apparently to the
coachman, was the next audible sound. "Say I come from Mrs. Payson, and
must see Mr. Goldenheart directly." Sally trembled and turned pale.
"The matron!" she said faintly. "Oh, don't let her in!" Amelius took
the terrified girl back to the library. Toff followed them, respectfully
asking to be told what a "matron" was. Receiving the necessary
explanation, he expressed his contempt for matrons bent on carrying
charming persons into captivity, by opening the library door and
spitting into the hall. Having relieved his mind in this way, he
returned to his master and laid a lank skinny forefinger cunningly
along the side of his nose. "I suppose, sir, you don't want to see
this furious woman?" he said. Before it was possible to say anything in
reply, another ring at the bell announced that the furious woman wanted
to see Amelius. Toff read his master's wishes in his master's face.
Not even this emergency could find him unprepared: he was as ready to
circumvent a matron as to cook a dinner. "The shutters are up, and the
curtains are drawn," he reminded Amelius. "Not a morsel of light is
visible outside. Let them ring--we have all gone to bed." He turned to
Sally, grinning with impish enjoyment of his own stratagem. "Ha, Miss!
what do you think of that?" There was a third pull at the bell as he
spoke. "Ring away, Missess Matrone!" he cried. "We are fast asleep--wake
us if you can." The fourth ring was the last. A sharp crack revealed
the breaking of the bellwire, and was followed by the shrill fall of the
iron handle on the pavement before the garden gate. The gate, like the
palings, was protected at th