"Take him into the front room, while I put on a clean apron!" She hastened to shut the door upon her husband, then paused, listening intently, as Mr.Fielding's riding-whip rapped smartly on the door.
"Happen it is only the young lady he's after," she said to herself.
It was.

In a moment, Mr.Fielding's voice, superior, slightly over bearing, made itself heard.

"Good evening, Rickett! I think Miss Moore is lodging here.

Is she in ?" "Good evening, sir!" said Rickett, and waited a moment for reflection.
"She was in, but I can't say but what she may have gone out again with the dog." "Well, find out, will you!" said Mr.Fielding.

"Wait a minute! You'd better take my card." Mrs.Rickett returned to her ironing.