About this time something occurred at John Mortimer’s house, which made people hold up their hands, and exclaim, “What next?”

It would be a difficult matter to tell that story correctly, considering how many had a hand in the telling of it, and that no two of them told it in the least degree alike; considering also that Mr. Mortimer, who certainly could have told the greater part of it, had (so far as was known) never told it at all.

Everybody said he had knocked up Swan and Mrs. Swan at six o’clock one morning, and sent the former to call up Matthew the coachman, who also lived out of the house.  “And that,” said Swan, when he admitted the fact to after questioners, “Matthew never will forgive me for doing.  He hates to get his orders through other folks, specially through me.  He allus grudges me the respect as the family can’t help feeling for me.  Not but that he gets his share, but he counts nothing his if it’s mine too.  He’d like to pluck the very summer out of my almanack, and keep it in his own little back parlour.”  Everybody said, also, that Mrs. Swan had made the fire that morning in Mr. Mortimer’s kitchen, and that Matthew had waited on him and his four daughters at breakfast, nobody else being in the house, gentle or simple.

Gentle or simple.  That was certainly true, for the governess had taken her departure two days previously.

After this, everybody said that Matthew brought the carriage round, and Mr. Mortimer put in the girls, and got in himself, telling Matthew to drive to Wigfield Hall, where Mr. Brandon, coming out to meet him with a look of surprise, he said, “Giles, we are early visitors;” and Mr. Brandon answered, “All the more welcome, John.”  Everybody said also that the four Miss Mortimers remained for several days with Mrs. Brandon, and very happy they seemed.

But though people knew no more, they naturally said a good deal more—­they always do.  Some said that Mr. Mortimer, coming home unexpectedly after a journey in the middle of the night, found the kitchen chimney on fire, and some of the servants asleep on the floor, nothing like so sober as they should have been.  Others said he found a dance going on in the servants’ hall, and the cook waltzing with a policeman, several gentlemen of the same craft being present.  Others, again, said that when he returned he found the house not only empty, but open; that he sat down and waited, in a lowering passion, till they all returned in two flys from some festivities at a public-house in Wigfield; and then, meeting them at the door, he retained the flys, and waving his hand, ordered them all off the premises; saw them very shortly depart, and locked the doors behind them.  It was a comfort to be able to invent so many stories, and not necessary to make them tally, for no one could contradict them; certainly not any one of the four Miss Mortimers, for they had all been fast asleep the whole time.

Mr. Mortimer held his peace; but while staying with Mr. and Mrs. Brandon till he could reconstruct his household, he was observed at first to be out of spirits, and vastly inclined to be out of temper.  He did his very best to hide this, but he could not hide a sort of look half shame, half amusement, which would now and then steal round the corners of his mouth, as if it had come out of some hiding-place to take a survey of things in general.