Ruby had run away from her lover in great dudgeon after the dance at the Music Hall, and had declared that she never wanted to see him again. But when reflection came with the morning her misery was stronger than her wrath. What would life be to her now without her lover? When she escaped from her grandfather’s house she certainly had not intended to become nurse and assistant maid-of-all-work at a London lodging-house. The daily toil she could endure, and the hard life, as long as she was supported by the prospect of some coming delight. A dance with Felix at the Music Hall, though it were three days distant from her, would so occupy her mind that she could wash and dress all the children without complaint. Mrs Pipkin was forced to own to herself that Ruby did earn her bread. But when she had parted with her lover almost on an understanding that they were never to meet again, things were very different with her. And perhaps she had been wrong. A gentleman like Sir Felix did not of course like to be told about marriage. If she gave him another chance, perhaps he would speak. At any rate she could not live without another dance. And so she wrote him a letter.

Ruby was glib enough with her pen, though what she wrote will hardly bear repeating. She underscored all her loves to him. She underscored the expression of her regret if she had vexed him. She did not want to hurry a gentleman. But she did want to have another dance at the Music Hall. Would he be there next Saturday? Sir Felix sent her a very short reply to say that he would be at the Music Hall on the Tuesday. As at this time he proposed to leave London on the Wednesday on his way to New York, he was proposing to devote his very last night to the companionship of Ruby Ruggles.

Mrs Pipkin had never interfered with her niece’s letters. It is certainly a part of the new dispensation that young women shall send and receive letters without inspection. But since Roger Carbury’s visit Mrs Pipkin had watched the postman, and had also watched her niece. For nearly a week Ruby said not a word of going out at night. She took the children for an airing in a broken perambulator, nearly as far as Holloway, with exemplary care, and washed up the cups and saucers as though her mind was intent upon them. But Mrs Pipkin’s mind was intent on obeying Mr Carbury’s behests. She had already hinted something as to which Ruby had made no answer. It was her purpose to tell her and to swear to her most — solemnly should she find her preparing herself to leave the house after six in the evening — that she should be kept out the whole night, having a purpose equally clear in her own mind that she would break her oath should she be unsuccessful in her effort to keep Ruby at home. But on the Tuesday, when Ruby went up to her room to deck herself, a bright idea as to a better precaution struck Mrs Pipkin’s mind. Ruby had been careless — had left her lover’s scrap of a note in an old pocket when she went out with the children, and Mrs Pipkin knew all about it. It was nine o’clock when Ruby went upstairs — and then Mrs Pipkin locked both the front door and the area gate. Mrs Hurtle had come home on the previous day. ‘You won’t be wanting to go out to-night; — will you, Mrs Hurtle?’ said Mrs Pipkin, knocking at her lodger’s door. Mrs Hurtle declared her purpose of remaining at home all the evening. ‘If you should hear words between me and my niece, don’t you mind, ma’am.’

‘I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mrs Pipkin?’

‘She’ll be wanting to go out, and I won’t have it. It isn’t right; is it, ma’am? She’s a good girl; but they’ve got such a way nowadays of doing just as they pleases, that one doesn’t know what’s going to come next.’ Mrs Pipkin must have feared downright rebellion when she thus took her lodger into her confidence.

Ruby came down in her silk frock, as she had done before, and made her usual little speech. ‘I’m just going to step out, aunt, for a little time to-night. I’ve got the key, and I’ll let myself in quite quiet.’

‘Indeed, Ruby, you won’t,’ said Mrs Pipkin.

‘Won’t what, aunt?’

‘Won’t let yourself in, if you go out. If you go out to-night you’ll stay out. That’s all about it. If you go out to-night you won’t come back here any more. I won’t have it, and it isn’t right that I should. You’re going after that young man that they tell me is the greatest scamp in all England.’

‘They tell you lies then, Aunt Pipkin.’

‘Very well. No girl is going out any more at nights out of my house; so that’s all about it. If you had told me you was going before, you needn’t have gone up and bedizened yourself. For now it’s all to take off again.’

Ruby could hardly believe it. She had expected some opposition — what she would have called a few words; but she had never imagined that her aunt would threaten to keep her in the streets all night. It seemed to her that she had bought the privilege of amusing herself by hard work. Nor did she believe now that her aunt would be as hard as her threat. ‘I’ve a right to go if I like,’ she said.

‘That’s as you think. You haven’t a right to come back again, any way.’

‘Yes, I have. I’ve worked for you a deal harder than the girl downstairs, and I don’t want no wages. I’ve a right to go out, and a right to come back; — and go I shall.’

‘You’ll be no better than you should be, if you do.’

‘Am I to work my very nails off, and push that perambulator about all day till my legs won’t carry me — and then I ain’t to go out, not once in a week?’

‘Not unless I know more about it, Ruby. I won’t have you go and throw yourself into the gutt............