straight frock and her pigtail like a forlorn child in a school scrape. "I said there was an aunt, and there's got to be an aunt. I was quite mad when I said it, of course, but I can't face your mother and tell her there isn't any aunt—I really can't."
"Let me tell her," he said, coming nearer to her; "let me tell her that a—and tell her something else as well. . . . Jane . . ."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" said Jane, edging away round the table. "There's nothing to tell her. Don't tell her anything unless she asks. And don't come with her this evening. Because if you do I shall laugh—or else I shall scream."
"Well, don't worry," he said; "everything will be all right. And Miss Antrobus, I can head her off if you don't want her."
"Oh no, you can" said Jane. "I tried that. I said five guineas a week, and I thought your mother would say it was too much, but she never turned a hair—I mean she didn't mind a bit. And Miss Antrobus is coming to-morrow to stay. Oh, here she is back again—whatever shall we do?"
But it wasn't Mrs. Rochester, it was Lucilla.
"Thank goodness!" said Jane. "Now go. I know you'll never respect me again now you know what a liar I am, but I can't help what you think of me. It's Fate."
"I only wish you'd let me tell you what I think of you—you must know . . ."
But Jane had fled.
••••••
And now behold two agitated young women with money in their purses on their way to seek the help of Mr. Hugo.
"I can't help it, I tell you," Jane kept saying. "I was driven into it. I said there was an aunt, and there must be an aunt. You know you can do it, Luce. If you could take me in you could take anyone in. You must dress exactly as you did that day."
