Later in the day, after she had herself opened and
read the answer, I laid another trap for her. It just succeeded, and no
more. I had half a minute to look into the envelope in her absence. It
contained nothing but her own letter returned. She is not the girl
to put up quietly with such an insult as this. Mischief will come of
it--Mischief to Michael Vanstone--which is of no earthly consequence:
mischief to Me--which is a truly serious matter.
VII.
_Chronicle for March._
After performing at Sheffield and Manchester, we have moved to
Liverpool, Preston, and Lancaster. Another change in this weathercock of
a girl. She has written no more letters to Michael Vanstone; and she has
become as anxious to make money as I am myself. We are realizing large
profits, and we are worked to death. I don't like this change in her:
she has a purpose to answer, or she would not show such extraordinary
eagerness to fill her purse. Nothing I can do--no cooking of accounts;
no self-presented testimonials--can keep that purse empty. The success
of the Entertainment, and her own sharpness in looking after her
interests, literally force me into a course of comparative honesty.
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