When a glow as of dawn spread through the dainty room, she settled Lucy on the sofa near the fire, and drew up an arm-chair on the other side of the hearth-rug.

Outside it was cold and foggy, but the rose-hued curtains shut out all that was disagreeable in the weather, and in the absence of male society, the two women talked more or less confidentially.

Lucy did not dislike Mrs.Jasher, even though she fancied that the lively widow was planning to become the mistress of the Pyramids.
"Well, my dear girl," said Mrs.Jasher, shading her face from the fire with a large fan, "and how is your dear father after his late terrible experiences ?" "He is perfectly well, and rather cross," replied Lucy, smiling.
"Cross ?" "Of course.

He has lost that wretched mummy." "And poor Sidney Bolton." "Oh, I don't think he cares for poor Sidney's death beyond the fact that he misses his services.

But the mummy cost nine hundred pounds, and father is much annoyed, especially as Peruvian mummies are somewhat hard to obtain.