thoroughfare called Boston Street, close to the west side of
Regent's Park, and here she entered a chemist's shop, over which
stood the name Smales. A middle-aged man of very haggard and feeble
appearance stood behind the counter, and his manner to the lady as
she addressed him was painfully subservient. He spoke very little
above a whisper, and as though suffering from a severe sore throat,
but it was his natural voice.

"She's better, I thank you, madam; much better, I hope and believe;
yes, much better."

He repeated his words nervously, rubbing his hands together
feverishly the while, and making his eye-brows go up and down in a
curious way.

"Might I see her for a few moments?"

"She would be happy, madam, very happy: oh yes, I am sure, very
happy If--if you would have the kindness to come round, yes, round
here, madam, and--and to excuse our poor sitting-room. Thank you,
thank you. Harriet, my dear, Miss Rutherford has had the great, the
very great, goodness to visit you--to visit you personally--yes.
I will leave you, if--if you please--h'm, yes."

He shuffled away in the same distressingly nervous manner, and
closed the door behind him. The schoolmistress found herself in a
dark little parlour, which smelt even more of drugs than the shop
itself. The window looked out into a dirty back-yard, and was almost
concealed with heavy red curtains. As the eyes got accustomed to the
dimness, one observed that the floor was covered with very old