She had her working apron on, and she was industriously brightening the knives for the breakfast-table on an old-fashioned board.

A sleek black cat balanced himself on her shoulder, watching the flashing motion of the knife as she passed it rapidly to and fro on the leather-covered surface of the board.
"Come here," she said; "I want to speak to you." I noticed, as I approached, that her pretty face was clouded and anxious.

She pushed the cat irritably off her shoulder; she welcomed me with only the faint reflection of her bright customary smile.
"I have seen John Jago," she said.

"He has been hinting at something which he says happened under your bedroom window this morning.

When I begged him to explain himself, he only answered, 'Ask Mr.Lefrank; I must be off to Narrabee.' What does it mean?
Tell me right away, sir! I'm out of temper, and I can't wait!" Except that I made the best instead of the worst of it, I told her what had happened under my window as plainly as I have told it here.