Poor old human wreck! Only ten hours earlier her nephew had bid her
farewell for the day. Christian began an explanation in a weary,
mechanical way, like an actor tired of the part assigned to him, but the
old ladies would not listen. Aunt Hester interrupted him promptly.

"Your shallow excuses are wasted on us, Nephew Vellacott. You have
doubtless been away, enjoying yourself and leaving us--us who support
you and deprive ourselves in order to keep a decent coat upon your
back--leaving us to the mercy of all the thieves in London. And tell us,
pray--what are we to do for spoons and forks to-night?"

"What?" exclaimed Christian with perfunctory interest, "have the spoons
gone--?" he almost said "again," but checked himself in time. He turned
to look at the table, which had been carefully denuded of every piece of
silver.

"There, you see!" quavered Aunt Judith triumphantly; and the two old
ladies rubbed their hands, nodded their palsied old heads at each other,
and chuckled in utter delight at their nephew's discomfiture, until Aunt
Judith was attacked by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to be
tearing her to pieces. Christian watched her with the ready keenness of
a sick-nurse.

"How did it occur?" he asked, when the old lady had recovered.

"There, you see," remarked Aunt Hester, with the precise intonation of
her accomplice.

"I _am_ sure!" panted Aunt Judith triumphantly.