appeared at the breakfast table on the morning of the tragedy related in our last chapter.
"Dear, dear! How ill you look!" was the medical lady's cheerful greeting. "Have you had a bad night?"
Miss Prudence admitted that she had.
"And your sister?—How late she is to-day. She is generally one of the first down."
"She is not very well this morning, and I persuaded her to stay in bed," said Prudence, colouring to the eyes, as she embarked on her career of falsehood.
"Very wise of you; she had much better breakfast in her room if she is feeling ill. There is some nice kedgeree she might like."
"Thank you," said Prudence with embarrassment. "Do not mind it. She told me she would take no breakfast, but I said I would bring her up a cup of milk and make her drink it."
"One of her bilious attacks, no doubt, since she refuses to eat," said the medical lady.
"Yes, yes," assented Miss Prudence eagerly. "That is what it is—a bad bilious attack."
"Do you think then," asked the medical
