waiting," she said stiffly.
"He was a gentleman's servant, sir. He could, of course, valet you
should you require him to do so."

And then she turned and led the way up the steep, narrow staircase.

At the top of the first flight of stairs was what Mrs. Bunting, to
herself, called the drawing-room floor. It consisted of a
sitting-room in front, and a bedroom behind. She opened the door
of the sitting-room and quickly lit the chandelier.

This front room was pleasant enough, though perhaps a little
over-encumbered with furniture. Covering the floor was a green
carpet simulating moss; four chairs were placed round the table
which occupied the exact middle of the apartment, and in the
corner, opposite the door giving on to the landing, was a roomy,
old-fashioned chiffonnier.

On the dark-green walls hung a series of eight engravings, portraits
of early Victorian belles, clad in lace and tarletan ball dresses,
clipped from an old Book of Beauty. Mrs. Bunting was very fond of
these pictures; she thought they gave the drawing-room a note of
elegance and refinement.

As she hurriedly turned up the gas she was glad, glad indeed, that
she had summoned up sufficient energy, two days ago, to give the
room a thorough turn-out.

It had remained for a long time in the state in which it had been
left by its last dishonest, dirty occupants when they had been
scared into going away by Bunting's rough threats of the police.
But now it was in apple-pie order, with one paramount exception,
of which Mrs. Bunting was painfully aware. There were no white
curtains to the windows, but that omission could soon be remedied
if this gentleman really took the lodgings.

But what was this--? The stranger was looking round him rather
dubiously. "This is rather--rather too grand for me," he said at
last "I should like to see your other rooms, Mrs. er--"

"--Bunting," she said softly. "Bunting, sir."

And as she spoke the dark, heavy load of care again came down and
settled on her sad, burdened heart. Perhaps she had been mistaken,
after all--or rather, she had not been mistaken in one sense, but
perhaps this gentleman was a poor gentleman--too poor, that is, to
afford the rent of more than one room, say eight or ten shillings
a week; eight or ten shillings a week would be very little use to
her and Bunting, though better than nothing at all.

"Will you just look at the bedroom, sir?"

"No," he said, "no. I think I should like to see what