They woke me at six in the m. It seemed still the middle of the night to me, for my dle of course had buro nothing, and the window-curtains were heavy ahe thin light out. When the maid, Margaret, came knog at my door, I thought I was in my old room at Lant Street. I was sure she was a thief, broke out from gaol and needing her fetters filed free by Mr Ibbs. That happened, sometimes; and sometimes the thieves were kind men, who knew us, and sometimes they were desperate villains. Once a man put a ko Mr Ibbss throat, because he said the file went too slow. So, hearing Margarets knoow, I started from the bed, g out, Oh! Hold!—though what I meant to be held, and who ought to have do, I could not tell you; aher, I suppose, could Margaret. She put her face about the door, whispering, Did you call, miss? She had a jug of warm water for me, and she came a my fire; then she reached beh the bed and took the chamber-pot, aied it into her bucket of
slops, and wiped it with a damp cloth that hung against her apron.
I had used to wash the chamber-pots, at home. Now, seeing Margaret tip my piddle into her bucket, I was not sure I liked it. But I said, Thank you, Margaret—then wished I hadnt; for she heard it and tossed her head, as if to say, Who did I think I was, thanking her?
Servants. She said I should take my breakfast in Mrs Stiless pantry. Theurned a me—getting a quick look, I thought, at my frod my shoes and my open trunk, on the way.
I waited for the fire to take, then rose and dressed. It was too cold to wash. My gow clammy. When I drew the window-curtain bad let the daylight in, I saw—what I had not been able to see the night before, by the dle—that the ceiling was streaked brown with damp, and the wood at the walls stained white.
From the -door room there came the murmur of voices. I heard Margaret saying, Yes, miss. Then there was the shutting of a door.
Then there was silence. I went down to my breakfast—first losing my way among the dark passages at the bottom of the servants stairs, and finding myself in the yard with the privy in it. The privy, I saas surrounded by les, and the bricks in the yard broken up with weeds. The walls of the house had ivy on them, and some of the windows wanted panes. Gentleman was right, after all, about the place being hardly worth crag. He was right, too, about the servants. When I found Mrs Stiless pantry at last there was a man there, dressed in breeches and silk stogs, and with a wig on his head with powder on it. That was Mr Way. He had been steward to Mr Lilly for forty-five years, he said; and he looked it. When a girl brought the breakfasts, he was served first. We had gammon and an egg, and a cup of beer. They had beer with all their meals there, there was a whole room where it was brewed. And they say Londoners lush!
Mr Way said hardly a word to me, but spoke to Mrs Stiles about the running of the house. He asked only after the family I was supposed to have just left; and when I told him, the Dunravens, of
Whelk Street, Mayfair, he nodded and looked clever, sayihought he kheir man. Which goes to show you what a humbug he was.
He went off at seven. Mrs Stiles would not leave the table before he got up. When she did she said,
You will be glad to hear, Miss Smith, that Miss Maud slept well.
I didnt know what to say to that. She went on, anyway:
Miss Maud rises early. She has asked that you be sent to her. Should you like t