"Oh, for nothing very good!" replied the driver, with a knowing smile.

"Ah! and how were they dressed?"

"Like most of the girls who go to dance at the Rainbow. One of them,
however, was very neat and prim, while the other--well! she was a
terrible dowdy."

"Which ran after you?"

"The girl who was neatly dressed, the one who--" The driver suddenly
paused: some vivid remembrance passed through his brain, and, abruptly
jerking the rains, he brought his horse to a standstill.

"Thunder!" he exclaimed. "Now I think of it, I did notice something
strange. One of the two women called the other 'Madame' as large as
life, while the other said 'thee' and 'thou,' and spoke as if she were
somebody."

"Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the young detective, in three different keys.
"And which was it that said 'thee' and 'thou'?"

"Why, the dowdy one. She with shabby dress and shoes as big as a gouty
man's. You should have seen her shake the prim-looking girl, as if she
had been a plum tree. 'You little fool!' said she, 'do you want to ruin
us? You will have time to faint when we get home; now come along. And
then she began to sob: 'Indeed, madame, indeed I can't!' she said, and
really she seemed quite unable to move: in fact, she appeared to be so
ill that I said to myself: 'Here is a young woman who has drunk more
than is good for her!'"