Yes, Ilam was saying when they came downstairs, “she has been like that since last night, and the doctors—I have had two—assure me that at her age no recovery is possible. She can take liquid food, and she can move her eyes slightly—you noticed how her eyes turn?—but otherwise she is incapable of movement, and, of course, she can’t articulate.”

He had taken his young relatives upstairs to see his mother, and the picture of her, lying almost in the attitude of a corpse on the bed, with a uniformed nurse sitting motionless beside her, had made a deep impression on Pauline and Rosie. In fact, the whole house saddened them. It was spacious and luxurious, but it was far from reaching that standard of splendour which one might reasonably expect from the Ilam wealth. Ilam did not look like a wealthy man. He did not talk like a wealthy man, and both girls began to perceive, dimly, that wealth is useless to those who have not sufficient imagination to employ it. Certainly the City of Pleasure was an expression of the Ilam riches, but they knew, as all the world knew, that the imagination which had brought into being the City of Pleasure was Carpentaria’s. Hence, they felt sorry for Josephus Ilam, partly because of the calamity to his mother, and partly because of his forlorn and anxious air; they thought he wanted looking after, and that this heavy pompous man was greatly to be pitied, despite his opulence.

“You haven’t told us how it happened, what caused it?” said Pauline sympathetically.

“Oh!” said Ilam, “as to that, who can tell? Probably some fright, some shock. But we can’t say. She was alone when it happened. And as she can’t speak—can’t write—can’t—— Well, you see how it is.”

“We are sorry for you,” murmured Rosie.

“And here I am, alone as it were,” Ilam continued. “What am I to do? What can a man do by himself? I’ve got a nurse. I can get fifty nurses, if necessary. And there are the servants. But what are nurses and servants? You understand my position, don’t you?”

“Yes, quite,” said Pauline.

They were partaking of a second tea in the Ilam drawing-room. The appetite of Rosie for cakes seemed unimpaired, though she did her best to hide it, and to pretend that she was only eating cakes out of politeness.

Ilam swallowed his tea in great gulps.

“I’m utterly unnerved,” he said.

“You must be,” said Rosie kindly.

“There’s a vast amount of superintendence to do in the City, as you may guess. But what am I fit for, with my poor old mother lying up there? You can’t fancy what she was to me. I depended on her for everything—everything.”

And then tears showed themselves in the little eyes of Josephus Ilam. The appearance of those tears in the eyes of a great strong man made Rosie feel very uncomfortable, so much so, that she was obliged to look out of the window.

“I wish we could help you,” said Pauline, after a pause.

“We’d do anything we could,” said Rosie.

Ilam glanced up.

“You can do everything,” he said. “I hesitated to ask you, but since you’ve mentioned it yourselves... and I’ll make it worth your while. Rely on that.”

“But what?” demanded Pauline, startled, while Rosie put down a fresh piece of cake which she had just taken.

“Come and live here,” said Ilam bluntly.

“Both of us?”

“Both of you.”

“We couldn’t do that, really,” said Pauline.

“No, of course not. But wouldn’t it be lovely?” added Rosie.

“Why couldn’t you?” asked Ilam. “You are your own mistresses, aren’t you? What is there to prevent you?”

“Well, you see,” said Pauline judicially, “we have our living to get, and then there’s our flat, and——”

“I don’t know how much you earn,” Ilam cried. “But I’ll cheerfully undertake to give you treble, whatever it is.”

“That would be five hundred and forty-six pounds a year, then,” said Rosie, who was specially good at arithmetic.

“Let us say six hundred,” Ilam amended the figure with a tremendously casual air.

The girls felt that, after all, perhaps he resembled a millionaire more than they had at first thought.

“Come, now,” Ilam urged. “Say yes. It’s an idea that came to me all of a sudden, while I was talking to you. But it’s an idea that gets better and better the more I think about it.”

“But we couldn’t give up our situations,” objected Pauline.

“Why not?” Ilam asked.

“I don’t know,” Pauline stammered. “It seems so queer. It’s so sudden. What would our duties be here?”

“Your duties would be to act as mistresses of this house, and to look after my poor mother. Of course, there’d be a nurse as well. I don’t know how many servants there are—five or six.”

“And we should have to manage everything?” said Pauline.

“Everything domestic. Come, you agree?”

“But suppose,” interpolated Rosie—“suppose we—you—we didn’t suit you?”

What she meant was “Suppose you didn’t suit us?”

“Come a month on trial,” said Ilam. “At the end of that time, if you want to leave, I’ll guarantee you a situation quite as good as you’re leaving. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

There was a pause; the twins looked at each other.

“Just think how I’m fixed!” pleaded Ilam.

“What do you say, Rosie?” Pauline asked primly of her sister.

“Well,” answered Rosie, “as cousin is in such a dilemma, and poor Mrs. Ilam so—so ill, perhaps——”

“Good!” exclaimed Ilam; “you agree. Good! I’m very much obliged to you. You’re two really nice girls, and I can assure you you’ll have a free hand here.”

“You decide for us,” said Pauline, smiling and reddening under Ilam’s appreciation.

“We’ll begin at once, eh?” said Ilam. “Tonight.”

“Oh, that’s quite out of the question,” objected Rosie. “We shall be obliged to give a month’s notice at Shooter’s.”

“Nonsense!” said Ilam. “I’ll send ‘em a cheque for a month’s salary instead; then they can’t grumble.”

“But to-morrow? How will they manage without us?” persisted Rosie.

Ilam laughed—and it was not often that Ilam laughed. Either the humour of the thing must have appealed to him very strongly, or it was a symptom that his spirits had mightily improved.

“They’ll manage without you,” he said.

“It’s true they can get substitutes from the Typewriting Exchange,” said Pauline.

Thus, it was arranged that Pauline and Rosie should take one of the City automobiles to their flat, and return with trunks and boxes during the evening. Before leaving the bungalow Pauline wrote to Shooter’s informing them of the blow that had fallen on Shooter’s, and Ilam filled in a cheque, and Rosie put it in the envelope and fastened the envelope. The automobile, ordered by telephone, came round to the door.

“You’ll introduce us to Mr. Carpentaria, won’t you?” said Rosie smilingly, as she was getting into the carriage.

Ilam frowned, and then cleared his face.

“Do you want to know him?” he asked.

“Why, of course!”

“Very well, I suppose you must,” Ilam agreed.

“Well, isn’t this the greatest fun?” Rosie whispered to Pauline when they drove off. “We can go where we like in the City. We can save at least five hundred a year, and perhaps we shall be his heiresses.”

“Hush!” Pauline admonished her.

And three hours later those two extremely practical twins were thoroughly installed in the Ilam bungalow. They had the air of having lived there all their lives as they chatted with Ilam in the drawing-room. Ilam himself was decidedly looking a little better.

“I have been talking to nurse,” said Pauline importantly, “and I shall sleep on the couch in Mrs. Ham’s room to-night. Nurse needs rest. She says there is nothing to do, but some one should be there.”

“I don’t want you to begin by tiring yourselves,” said Ilam, “but, of course——”

They heard a violent ring at the front-door, and presently a servant entered. Ilam started.

“Mr. Carpentaria,” said the servant.

Ilam turned pale.

“Show him in,” said Rosie calmly to the servant.

“Yes, Miss Rose,” said the servant, who, in common with the other servants, had already been clearly informed of the names, position, and authority of the new-comers.

“You are to introduce him to us, you know,” Rosie murmured sweetly to Ilam, “and I suppose we shall have to play hostesses now.”

Carpentaria came in, evidently hot from his concert.

“I say, Ilam——” he began.

Then he perceived the twins, and Ilam clumsily performed the introductions. The girls were enchanted with his uniform and with him. He said little, and he was pale, but then he was so distinguished; all his movements were distinguished and magnificent.

“We saw you this afternoon,” Rosie ventured timidly.

“And I didn’t see you! The loss was mine,” he returned, gazing at Pauline.

Ilam had sunk back heavily into a chair. Carpentaria caught sight of his face, and an awkward silence followed.

“I came on a matter of business,” Carpentaria said to Ilam, “but I won’t trouble you now, it will do to-morrow. Good-night.”

“We shall hope to see more of you,” said Rosie when Carpentaria had demonstrated that he really meant to go.

“Yes indeed,” said Pauline very quietly, and the visitor bowed.

And then Carpentaria, that glorious vision, had vanished.

“Cousin’s nerves are simply all to pieces,” commented Rosie, as the girls were going upstairs; “even a casual visitor upsets him. Did you notice his face as soon as the bell rang?”