The Real Charlotte 131 



similar circumstances, and for the first time a doubt as to 

 the fitness of her social methods crossed her mind. 



Pamela, as she drove home after tea, thought she under- 

 stood why it was that Miss Mullen did not wish her cousin 

 to be left to her own devices in Lismoyle. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



There was no sound in the red gloom, except the steady 

 trickle of running water, and the anxious breathing of the 

 photographer. Christopher's long hands moved mysteri- 

 ously in the crimson light, among phials, baths, and cases of 

 negatives, while uncanny smells of various acids and com- 

 pounds thickened the atmosphere. Piles of old trunks 

 towered dimly in the corners, a superannuated sofa stood 

 on its head by the wall, with its broken hind-legs in the air, 

 three old ball skirts hung like ghosts of Bluebeard's wives 

 upon the door, from which, to Christopher's developing tap, 

 a narrow passage forced its angular way. 



There was presently a step on the uncarpeted flight of 

 attic stairs, accompanied by a pattering of broad paws, and 

 Pamela, closely attended by the inevitable Max, slid with 

 due caution into the room. 



" Well, Christopher," she began, sitting gingerly down 

 in the darkness on an old imperial, a rehc of the period 

 when Sir Benjamin posted to Dublin in his own carriage, 

 " Mamma says she is to come ! " 



" Lawks ! " said Christopher succinctly, after a pause 

 occupied by the emptying of one photographic bath into 

 another. 



" Mamma said she * felt Charlotte Mullen's position so 

 keenly in having to leave that girl by herself,' " pursued 

 Pamela, '' ' that it was only common charity to take her in 

 here while she was away.' " 



" Well, my dear, and what are you going to do with 

 her ? " said Christopher cheerfully. 



''Oh, I can't think," replied Pamela despairingly; "and 

 I know that Evelyn does not care about her ; only last 

 night she said she dressed like a doll at a bazaar." 



