“I stand the Honourable Mrs. T. on my bench in this corner against the wall, where her blue eyes can shine upon you,” pursued Miss Wren, doing so, and making two little dabs at him in the air with her needle, as if she pricked him with it in his own eyes; “and I defy you to tell me, with Mrs. T. for a witness, what you have come here for.”

“To see Hexam’s sister.”

“You don’t say so!” retorted Miss Wren, hitching her chin. “But on whose account?”

“Her own.”

“O Mrs. T. !” exclaimed Miss Wren. “You hear him!”