"You--you've made a mistake," said the bewildered Richard.

"Mistake?" wailed Mrs. Porter. "Mistake! Oh, where's your 'art?"

Before he could get out of her way she flung her arms round the horrified
young man's neck and em-braced him copiously. Over her bony left
shoulder the frantic Richard met the ecstatic gaze of Miss Truefitt, and,
in a flash, he realised the trap into which he had fallen.

"Mrs. Porter!" said Prudence.

"It's my 'usband, miss," said the Amazon, reluctantly releasing the
flushed and dishevelled Richard; "'e left me and my five eighteen months
ago. For eighteen months I 'aven't 'ad a sight of 'is blessed face."

She lifted the hem of her apron to her face and broke into discordant
weeping.

"Don't cry," said Prudence, softly; "I'm sure he isn't worth it."

Mr. Catesby looked at her wanly. He was beyond further astonishment, and
when Mrs. Truefitt entered the room with a laudable attempt to twist her
features into an expression of surprise, he scarcely noticed her.

"It's my Joe," said Mrs. Porter, simply.

"Good gracious!" said Mrs. Truefitt. "Well, you've got him now; take
care he doesn't run away from you again."