Early on that very morning Miss Hart tapped at Mrs. Bell's door. That good lady was not fully dressed, but she appeared in a voluminous morning robe to answer her young visitor's summons.  
"I am going away, Mrs. Bell," said Miss Hart.
 
"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Bell's full-moon face turned absolutely pale. "Going away, my love!" she said. She thought of her private hoard, not nearly large enough, and her voice became absolutely pathetic. "Going away, Miss Hart? I'm truly grieved to hear it. And haven't I made you comfortable enough, my poor dear?"
 
"Oh, you misunderstand me, Mrs. Bell. I am going away, but only for a little—just for a day or two. I don't know exactly when I shall be back, but probably in a day or two. I am going by the early train, and I tapped at your door to say good-bye."
 
Then Mrs. Bell in her delight and joy kissed Miss Hart, who soon afterwards left the house.
 
She walked to the station, the hour was early, and there was no special person about. She took a first-class ticket to a small town about thirty miles away, and immediately afterwards her train came up.
 
During the greater part of her journey Miss Hart had the compartment to herself. By-and-bye fellow-passengers got in, who almost started back at the sight of the pale face of the girl, who sat with her veil thrown back, looking straight out of the open window.
 
There was a strange expression on her face; her brows were slightly drawn together, and the curves of her lips had a, weary and pathetic droop. She had taken off her gloves, and now and then she clasped her slender white hands together with a nervous, passionate tension. Then the look in her eyes became almost ugly, and her fellow passengers were uncomfortable as they watched her.
 
At the little country town of West Brockley, Miss Hart alighted. She had brought all her luggage in a small handbag, and now she walked to her destination. It was in the outskirts of the little town, and amongst a row of poor houses. She stopped at one of these, and entered by the open door. A woman met her in the passage.
 
"Is Mr. Hart within?"
 
"I don't know, madam, I'll inquire."
 
"No, don't do that. I'll go to him myself. He's at the top of the house, of course, as usual?"
 
"Why, as usual, madam? Mr. Hart has never been my lodger before."
 
"I know his ways. He invariably seeks the top."
 
"From no prejudice, madam. He seems a very quiet gentleman."
 
"Exactly. Treasure him, he is a valuable lodger. Now let me pass, please. I am going to seek him."
 
"Perhaps I had better tell him first, young lady."
 
"I am his grandchild. It is all right. Let me pass."
 
She brushed the woman aside, and flew lightly up the stairs. She knocked at the door of the top attic, but followed her knock into the room before any one had made response from within.
 
Old Hart was, as usual, messing over some cooking. He stopped it when he saw Josephine, and an iron spoon which he held in his hand clattered noisily to the floor.
 
"Now, Nina, what is the matter?"
 
"I am going to spend the day with you, Granddad, and probably the night as well. You can give me a bed in a corner of this delightful sitting-room. Is that breakfast? I wish you would serve it up; I am starving."
 
"It's a very good breakfast, little Nina. Fried rabbit, done after a new method. Bacon and eggs to follow, with a sauce of port wine. Olives and sour claret for dessert. I know your taste, witch."
 
"I love olives," said Nina. "Sit at the table, Grand-dad, and let us begin. By the way, when did you shave last?"
 
"Ha—ha, who have I to shave for now, my pretty Nina? Nobody cares for the old man, nobody looks at him with eyes of admiration. Why should he waste his money and his time over the barbarous rite of shaving? Nature has her way with the old man now, sweet witch."
 
"Nature doesn't improve you, Grand-dad. You require the refining touches of art. Your beard is unkempt, your hair too long. You shall visit the barber after we have concluded our meal. It is distressing to mankind in general to behold a spectacle like you. You owe a duty to the world at large. You must visit the barber."
 
"Chut—chut! What a witch it is! Why didn't it stay at home, and not worry the old man?"
 
"Serve up the breakfast, Grand-dad, and believe in the salutary nature of your granddaughter's visitations."
 
The two sat down to their meal, and both ate for a time in unbroken silence. After his third glass of sour claret, the old man spoke:
 
"How are you, Nina? You don't look up to much?"
 
"Would you be up to much if a fever consumed you day and night? Feel my hand, Grand-dad."
 
The old man gripped the slender fingers, then flung them away.
 
"Good God! they burn!" he said. "Don't touch me, witch. You may have contracted something catching."
 
"No, nothing that the old man can catch. Now, let us be pleasant, and enjoy the day together."
 
"We can't. I am going to move to-day."
 
"You must stay here to-day; you can move tomorrow."
 
"Witch, how you order me. I won't be ordered. I shall move to-day."
 
"You have no idea of moving, either to-day or to-morrow. Don't talk nonsense. You have had your breakfast. I will wash the things up. Go and visit the barber."
 
The old man muttered and mumbled. Finally he tied a large crimson scarf in a loose knot round his throat, shoved a soft felt hat on his head, and donning a greasy and very old brown velvet cloak, he prepared to go out.
 
"It's a rare nuisance," he said; "I meant to try some Chinese cooking for dinner; something with a subtle aroma, delicate, and hard to obtain. You boil the leeks for so many hours, and catch the essence in a distiller. Bah! you care nothing for eating, witch."
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