alone with any of us; that you have never been at home when Miss Lucas was with us; that Miss Quested has been disgracefully neglectful of your aunt—has never once spoken to her except to say good-night; that neither of you have ever shown the faintest interest in the old lady's ailments; that the old lady has never been outside the house since the day we all came, until you sent her away. Then when Miss Antrobus has offered to read to her or take her out you and Miss Quested have always thrown cold water on her proposals. She says she's determined to sift the matter to the bottom. If there's a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Aunts, she'll set it on to you."
"Oh dear!" said Lucilla. "Oh, my goodness, how perfectly awful!"
"I thought you'd like me to tell you about it," Mr. Tombs went on, "and at once, because I don't know what she'll do or say next."
"Oh, rather!" said Lucilla eagerly, quite forgetting what it was that she had more than half expected him to tell her. "I think it's most awfully decent of you. But what can I do? I feel all to pieces. What can I do?"
"Well, if I were you," said Mr. Tombs slowly, "I should tell her all about your aunt."
"All about my aunt?"
"Yes, tell her the truth, you know."
"But" said Lucilla.
"Yes, I know," said Mr. Tombs. "She'll be awfully annoyed at having been taken in, I daresay, but anything's better than her going to societies about your affairs."
"Taken in?" repeated Lucilla automatically, and not with any hope of continued concealment.
"Well, you know," said Mr. Tombs gently, "you did it most awfully well, and I didn't tumble to it myself till the third evening. Your acting's been magnificent. I should tell her the first thing to-morrow. Treat it as a joke—tell her it's gone far enough. Of course I'll pretend to have been
