Daisy was quite right when she said that Hannah was not subject to nervous attacks. Hannah scorned nerves, and did not believe in them. When she was told that the human body was as full of nerves as an electric battery was full of electricity, that nerves, in short, were like numberless telegraphic-wires, prevailing the whole human frame, she stared at the speakers, and pronounced them slightly daft.

Yet Hannah went out of her own little sitting-room on that summer afternoon with, as she expressed it, trembling sensations running down her back, and causing her fingers to shake when she handled her cups and saucers.

"Dear, dear," she said to herself, "one would think I had some of those awful telegrams in me which Miss Primrose said was the nervous system. Why, I'm all upset from top to toe. I never had a good view of him before, for I didn't pay no heed to nobody when my dear little Miss Daisy was so ill; but I do say that the cut of the hand and the turn of the head is as like—as like as two peas. Now I do wonder—no, no, it can't be. Well, anyhow, my name ain't Hannah Martin if I don't find out where he comes from, and who he really is. Well, well, well—why this trembling won't leave me, and I don't dare go back into the room. I suppose I have got a few telegraphs, and I mustn't never laugh at poor little Miss Daisy again when she says she's nervous."

Hannah sat and rested for about half an hour—then she drank off a glass of cold water—then she washed her face and hands—then she said aloud that the telegrams should not get the better of her, and then she prepared as nice a little dinner as she could for Noel and the two sisters.

That evening, after Daisy was in bed, she came into the room where Primrose was quietly reading.

"You haven't never come across no one the least like that brother of yours in the London streets, Miss Primrose?" she asked. "London's a big place, and strange things happen there—yes, very, very strange things."

"Oh, Hannah, how you startle me!" said Primrose. "I come across my poor little brother Arthur? How could I? Why, he must be dead for many and many a year."

"Not a bit of him," said Hannah; "I don't believe he's dead. He was a fine, hearty, strong child, and nothing ever seemed to ail him. Oh, it rises up before me now what a beautiful picture he made when he stood in his little red velvet dress by your mamma's knee, and she so proud of him! There's no mistake, but he was the very light of her eyes. She took him up to London, and a nursemaid—not me, you may be quite sure—took him out. She went into a big shop, and the child was by her side. She kept him standing by her as she ordered some things across the counter, and, I suppose, she turned her h............