Mr. Galloway dipped his pen in the ink, and copied something from
"Bradshaw" into the closely-written letter, standing at Jenkins's desk
to do it; then he passed the blotting-paper quickly over the words, and
folded the letter.

"Channing," he said, speaking very hastily, "you will see a
twenty-pound bank-note on my desk, and the directed envelope of this
letter; bring them here."

Arthur went, and brought forth the envelope and bank-note. Mr. Galloway
doubled the note in four and slipped it between the folds of the
letter, putting both into the envelope. He had fastened it down, when a
loud noise and commotion was heard in the street. Curious as are said
to be antiquated maidens, Mr. Galloway rushed to the window and threw
it up, his two clerks attending in his wake.

Something very fine, in a white dress, and pink and scarlet flowers on
her bonnetless head, as if attired for an evening party, was whirling
round the middle of the road in circles: a tall woman, who must once
have been beautiful. She appeared to be whirling someone else with her,
amid laughter and shrieks, and cries and groans, from the gathering
mob.

"It is Mad Nance!" uttered Mr. Galloway. "Poor thing! she really ought
to be in confinement."

So every one had said for a long time, but no one bestirred themselves
to place her in it. This unfortunate creature, Mad Nance, as she was
called, was sufficiently harmless to be at large on sufferance, and
sufficiently mad at times to put a street in an uproar. In her least