CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH MARY QUALIFIES FOR THE RÔLE OF THE BAD GIRL OF THE FAMILY
Now who do you suppose it was, my lords and gentlemen,
who pulled that blessed bell-wire? No, not the
ex-lessee of the Cornmarket Theater. Miss Mary, helping
Cook to peel the potatoes down in the basement,
made herself acquainted with that fact when she pulled
aside the window curtains and looked up through the
area. Cockades and things were before the door of No.
10 Bedford Gardens; a raking pair of chestnuts; and
a smart rubber-tired vehicle with armorial bearings.
The Bad Girl of the Family, peering through the kitchen curtains, with a half-peeled potato in one hand, and a bone-hafted knife in the other, saw Jeames de la Pluche, Esquire, who in that charming but absurd fur cape reminded her not a little of Harry Merino as the Cat in the moral drama of Dick Whittington, leap down from his perch with marked agility, whisk open the door, and lend assistance to something very uncommon in the way of distinction.
Uncommon Distinction was blonde and bland of coun-
