Two days later a little woman might have been seen paying a cabman at the door of No. 12, Prince's Mansions. She argued with him over the fare, but finally yielded to his terms, and then she tripped upstairs, throwing back her long widow's veil, which she always insisted on wearing. She reached the door which had been indicated to her as the one leading to Florence's room. She tapped, but there was no answer. She tried to turn the handle: the door was locked. Just as she was so engaged, a girl with a bright, keen face and resolute manner opened the next door and popped out her head.

"Pardon me," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, for of course it was she, "but can you tell me if my daughter Florence is likely to be in soon?"

"Your daughter Florence?" repeated the girl. "Are you Mrs.

Aylmer--Florence's mother?"

"That is my proud position, my dear. I am the mother of that extremely gifted girl."

"She is out, but I daresay she will be in soon," said Edith Franks.

"Will you come into my room and wait for her?"

"With pleasure. How very kind of you!" said Mrs. Aylmer. She tripped into the room, accepted the seat which Edith pointed out to her near the fire, and untied her bonnet strings.

"Dear, dear!" she said, as she looked around her. "Very comfortable indeed. And is _this_ what indicates the extreme poverty of those lady girls who toil?"

"That is a remarkable sentence," said Edith. "Do you mind saying it again?"

Mrs. Aylmer looked at her and smiled.

"I won't say it again," she said, "for it does not fit the circ.u.mstance.

You do not toil."

"But indeed I do; I work extremely hard--often eight or nine hours a day."

"Good gracious! How crushing! But you don't look bad."

"I have no intention of being bad, for I enjoy my work. I am studying to be a lady doctor."

"Oh, don't," said Mrs. Aylmer. She immediately drew down her veil and seated herself in such a position that the light should not fall on her face.

"I have heard of those awful medical women," she said, after a pause, "and I a.s.sure you the mere idea of them makes me ill. I hope they will never become the fashion. You expect medical knowledge in a man, but not in a woman. My dear, pray don't stare at me; you may discover that I have some secret disease which I do not know of myself. I do not wish it found out even if it exists. Please keep your eyes off me."

"I am not going to diagnose your case, if that is what you mean,"

replied Edith, with a smile. "I am by no means qualified: I have to pa.s.s my exams in America."

"Thank you." Mrs. Aylmer sighed again. "It is a relief to know that at present you understand but little of the subject. I hope some good man may marry you and prevent your becoming that monster--a woman doctor.

But now to change the subject. I am extremely anxious for my daughter to return. I have bad news for her. Can you tell me how she is?"

"Well, I think," replied Edith.

"You know her."

"Oh, yes, rather intimately. Have you not heard our news?"

"What news?"

"She is engaged to my brother."

"What?" cried Mrs. Aylmer. She sprang to her feet; she forgot in her excitement all fear of the embryo medical woman. She dropped her cloak and rushed forward to where Edith was standing and seized both her hands.

"My girl engaged to your brother! And pray who is your brother?"

"A very rising journalist, a remarkably clever man. It is, let me tell you, Mrs. Aylmer, an excellent match for your daughter."

"Oh, that remains to be seen. I don't at all know that I countenance the engagement."

"I am afraid you cannot help it now. Florence is of age. I wonder she did not write to you."

"I may not have received her letter. The fact is I have been away from home for the last day or two. But I wish she would return, as I have come on most urgent business. Pray, miss--I do not even know your name."

"Franks," replied Edith: "Edith Franks."

"Pray, Miss Franks, do not spread the story of my daughter's engagement to your brother just for a day or two. Circ.u.mstances may alter matters, and until a girl has been really _led_ to the altar I never consider this sort of thing final. Ah! whose step is that on the stairs? I believe it is my Flo's."

Mrs. Aylmer tripped to the door, flung it open, and stood in an expectant att.i.tude.

The next moment Florence, accompanied by Tom Franks, appeared. Mrs.

Aylmer looked at him, and in a flash said, under her breath: "The future son-in-law." Then she went up to Florence and kissed her.

"Oh, mother," said Florence, looking by no means elated at this unexpected appearance of the little Mummy on the scene, "what has brought you to town?"

"Most important business, dear. I must see you immediately in your room.

I a.s.sure you nothing would induce me to spend the money I did were it not absolutely necessary that I should see you at once. This gentleman, you must tell him to go, Florence; I have not a single moment to waste over him now."

"Let me introduce Mr. Franks to you, mother. Tom, this is my mother. You know, mother, that I am engaged to Mr. Franks."

"I know nothing of the kind," replied Mrs. Aylmer angrily.

Florence smiled.

"But I wrote to you, mother; I told you everything."

"Perhaps so, dear, but I didn't receive the letter. I cannot acknowledge the engagement just now. I am very much agitated. Mr. Franks, you will, I hope, excuse me. Of course I know the feelings of all young men under such circ.u.mstances, and I wish to do nothing rude or in any way impolite, but just now I _must_ see my daughter alone."

"You had better go, Tom," said Florence. She took the key of her room out of her pocket, opened the door, and ushered her mother in.

"Now, mother," she said. "Oh, dear, the fire is out." She walked to the hearth, stooped down, and began to light the fire afresh. Mrs. Aylmer sat near the window.

"Now, mother," said Florence, just looking round her, "what have you come about?"

"I thought you would give me a welcome," said Mrs. Aylmer the less; "you used to be an affectionate girl."

"Oh, used!" said Florence. "But people change as they grow older.

Sometimes I think I have not any heart."

"But you have engaged yourself to that man. I presume you love him."

"No, I don't love him at all."