on going on board Sir John very soon discovered
the two Miss Fabers, both glad enough to
exchange the confinement of the vessel for the
liberty of shore. The following day they were
fairly installed in their house at Kensington,
and Sir John congratulated himself on the idea
that his troubles were at an end, whereas they
had really hardly begun.

The governess to whose care Sir John had
entrusted the two girls had never kept house
for herself, and was in perpetual difficulties of
some sort or other. Had Milson been able to
tell his wife all about them, she would no doubt
have gone to see them and set matters to rights
very quickly. But the imperative wishes of
his old friend Laber made this impossible, and
so Sir John—always in a flurry lest he should
be found out doing what he could give no
explanation about—went on bungling and trying to
mend matters, and only making them worse than
before. One day he would receive a note from
the lady, telling him that the cistern of their
house would not work, and would he be good
enough to send to the landlord about it.
Another time it was the servants who would not
obey her, and who would not do the work of
the house; or else some tradesman had charged
her fifty per cent too much, and was most
insolent when she remonstrated with him.

For some time poor Sir John, was kept
perpetually upon the trot between Tyburnia and
Kensington, but at last he secured the services
of an experienced housekeeper, and put her in
charge of the establishment, leaving the governess
free to direct the studies of the young ladies.
He was then not obliged to go so often to see
his charges; but before he had got this settled
his wife's suspicions were fairly aroused that
there was something worrying him, and she felt
quite certain that he had some secret annoyance
of which he had not told her.

Up to this time there perhaps never was
a couple that had fewer secrets between them
than Sir John and Lady Milson. Even in
money matters the former not only told his wife
whatever and all that she asked him about, but
made a point of frequently explaining to her the
various items in his banker's book, and showing
her how the money had been invested in this or
that security, how the interest was paid, and all
about it. In India—at least until Sir John was
free of debt—it had been Annie who had kept
the accounts; but since their return to England
Sir John had to transact his own business, but
had always shown his wife how matters stood.
One day, wanting to see on what date she had
paid a certain account, she went to his desk,
and taking out his cheque-book began to turn
over the counterfoils in order to find what
she wanted. As she did so, the name of
"Miss F." struck her eye two or three times, as
having either received money from, or had money
paid for her by, Sir John Milson. The name
was repeated so often on the different counterfoils,
that Lady Milson began to wonder who
this lady could possibly be. Judging from the
cheque-book, her husband must have been paying
for everything this personage had in the
world. Thus: "24th June, Miss F., millinery
bill, fifty-nine pounds ten shillings and fourpence;"
"28th June, Miss F., house-money,
twenty-five pounds;" "1st July, Miss F.,
furniture, one hundred and forty pounds;"
"2nd July, Miss F., pocket-money, twenty
pounds;" "5th July, Miss F., bookseller's bill,
thirteen pounds four shillings and fourpence;"
"10th July, Miss F., furniture bill, one hundred
pounds;" and so on, to the tune of five
hundred and fifty or six hundred pounds, and
all this within six weeks or two months. Now
there are few wives who would not, under
similar circumstances, have behaved much more
foolishly than Annie did. She simply resolved,
on the first possible occasion, to ask Sir John
who this Miss F. was, and how it came to
pass that he spent so much money upon her.
Of course she had no idea that the cheques
drawn by Sir John were not against his own
income, and were paid from the money
remitted by his old friend for the use of his
children.

At dinner that evening Sir John had evidently
something on his mind which worried him. The
fact was, that he had the day before received at
his club a very gushing note from his elder
ward, thanking him for having forwarded to her
a letter from her father. The note meant
nothing: it was merely written by a girl of
nineteen who was grateful to a man whom she
looked upon as old enough to be her father.
But in the hands of a person ignorant of the
relation in which the writer stood to Sir John,
or if read by one who thought he saw evil in
every sentence he could not explain, Miss
Faber's letter might be made to mean anything.
Sir John, although a very orderly man in most
things, was—like most people who have lived
long in a country where their servants cannot
understand their language—very careless about
his letters, and seldom a week passed without
his butler—who also valeted him—bringing him
papers of some sort which he had left in his frock-
coat when he dressed for dinner. This had been
the fate of Miss Faber's letter. The butler had
found it in the breast-pocket of his master's coat,
and had no doubt made himself thoroughly
acquainted with the contents before returning it.
Sir John felt certain that the poor girl's letter had
been the talk of the servants' room, and that, as
his wife's maid was known to be "keeping
company" with the butler, the chances were that
some report—greatly exaggerated, as a matter of
course—about this letter would reach his wife's
ears. When they sat down to table, Lady Milson
was wondering to herself who "Miss F.," who
spent so much of her husband's money, could be;
and Sir John was speculating whether or not
she had heard anything about the letter which
had been found in his coat-pocket. The dinner
passed over silently and stiffly enough, and when
it came to an end, and the servants had left the
room, Lady Milson at once took up her parable
and put the question to her husband.

"John, dear, I went to look over your cheque-