"I will, if only to stop your stupid little mind from wunning along its
accustomed dirty gwoove," answered Carminow sententiously. "Miss Grey is
the daughter of a clergyman--"

"They all are."

"She is an orphan, that is to say, as good as one, for her mother is
dead and her father too poor to support her. She works very hard when
she can get any work, which I am sowwy to say is not often, and she is
as good as she is clever. I should be vewy glad if I could put her in
the way of more work when the play she is in is taken off, and I thought
you, Killigrew, who know so many people--"

"Artful old bird! So that's what you'd got in your mind, is it? Well I
can't do anything till I've seen the lady, can I? Even an angel in a
poke--"

The singing had ceased, and in the little silence there came a knock at
the sitting-room door. Carminow had called out "Come in" automatically
before a sudden idea sent him to his feet. He was too late; the door had
opened and a young lady in grey stood hesitating on the threshold.




CHAPTER IX

HIDDEN SPRINGS