So, next morning, their breakfast was served in the library.  Mrs. Higgins came down at the usual hour, found the dining-room at her disposal, and ate with customary appetite, alone.  Had Emmeline’s experience lain among the more vigorously vulgar of her sex she would have marvelled at Mrs. Higgins’s silence and general self-restraint during these last hours.  Louise’s mother might, without transgressing the probabilities of the situation, have made this a memorable morning indeed.  She confined herself to a rather frequent ringing of the bedroom bell.  Her requests of the servants became orders, such as she would have given in a hotel or lodging-house, but no distinctly offensive word escaped her.  And this was almost entirely due to Louise’s influence for the girl impressed upon her mother that ‘to make a row’ would be the sure and certain way of proving that Mrs. Mumford was justified in claiming social superiority over her guests.

The doctor, easily perceiving how matters stood, made no difficulty about the patient’s removal in a closed carriage, and, with exercise of all obvious precautions, she might travel as soon as she liked.  Anticipating this, Mrs. Higgins had already packed all the luggage, and Louise, as well as it could be managed, had been clad for the journey.

‘I suppose you’ll go and order the cab yourself?’ she said to her mother, when they were alone again.

’Yes, I must, on account of making a bargain about the charge.  A nice expense you’ve been to us, Louise.  That man ought to pay every penny.’

‘I’ll tell him you say so, and no doubt he will.’

They wrangled about this whilst Mrs. Higgins was dressing to go out.  As soon as her mother had left the house Louise stole downstairs and to the door of the drawing-room, which was half open.  Emmeline, her back turned, stood before the fireplace, as if considering some new plan of decoration; she did not hear the girl’s light step.  Whitewashers and paperhangers had done their work; a new carpet was laid down; but pictures had still to be restored to their places, and the furniture stood all together in the middle of the room.  Not till Louise had entered did her hostess look round.

‘Mrs. Mumford, I want to say good-bye.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Emmeline answered civilly, but without a smile.  ‘Good-bye, Miss Derrick.’

And she stepped forward to shake hands.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the girl, looking into her face good-humouredly.  ‘You shall never see me again unless you wish to.’

‘I’m sure I wish you all happiness,’ was the embarrassed reply.  ‘And—­I shall be glad to hear of your marriage.’

’I’ll write to you about it.  But you won’t talk—­unkindly about me when I’ve gone—­you and Mr. Mumford?’

‘No, no; indeed we shall not.’

Louise tried to say something else, but without success.  She pressed Emmeline’s hand, turned quickly, and disappeared.  In half-an-hour’s time arrived the vehicle Mrs. Higgins had engaged; without delay mother and daughter left the house, and were driven off.  Mrs. Mumford kept a strict retirement.  When the two had gone she learnt from the housemaid that their luggage would be removed later in the day.