Patsy sat down, from sheer lack of strength to stand up.
"Who hired you, then?" she asked.
"A gentleman from the bank," was the reply. "I'm Mary, if you please,
Miss. And my wages are all arranged for in advance, so there will be
nothing for you to pay," said the little maid.
"Can you cook?" asked Patsy, curiously.
"Yes, Miss," with a smile. "The dinner will be ready at one o'clock."
"Oh; you've been here before, then?"
"Two days, Miss, getting ready for you."
"And where will you sleep?"
"I've a little room beyond the kitchen. Didn't you see it, Miss
Patricia?"
"No, Mary."
"Anything more at present, Miss Patricia?"
"No, Mary."
The maid bowed again, and disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving an
awe-struck group behind her.
The Major whistled softly. Uncle John seemed quite unconcerned. Patsy
took out her handkerchief. The tears _would_ come in spite of her
efforts.
"I--I--I'm going to have a good cry," she sobbed, and rushed into the
living-room to throw herself flat upon the divan.
"It's all right," said the Major, answering Uncle John's startled
look; "the cry will do her good.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230