Mrs. Postwhistle sat on a Windsor-chair in the centre of Rolls
Court. Mrs. Postwhistle, who, in the days of her Hebehood, had
been likened by admiring frequenters of the old Mitre in Chancery
Lane to the ladies, somewhat emaciated, that an English artist,
since become famous, was then commencing to popularise, had
developed with the passing years, yet still retained a face of
placid youthfulness. The two facts, taken in conjunction, had
resulted in an asset to her income not to be despised. The
wanderer through Rolls Court this summer's afternoon, presuming him
to be familiar with current journalism, would have retired haunted
by the sense that the restful-looking lady on the Windsor-chair was
someone that he ought to know. Glancing through almost any
illustrated paper of the period, the problem would have been solved
for him. A photograph of Mrs. Postwhistle, taken quite recently,
he would have encountered with this legend: "BEFORE use of
Professor Hardtop's certain cure for corpulency." Beside it a
photograph of Mrs. Postwhistle, then Arabella Higgins, taken twenty
years ago, the legend slightly varied: "AFTER use," etc. The face
was the same, the figure--there was no denying it--had undergone
decided alteration.

Mrs. Postwhistle had reached with her chair the centre of Rolls
Court in course of following the sun. The little shop, over the
lintel of which ran: "Timothy Postwhistle, Grocer and Provision
Merchant," she had left behind her in the shadow. Old inhabitants
of St. Dunstan-in-the-West retained recollection of a gentlemanly
figure, always in a very gorgeous waistcoat, with Dundreary