Arminell stood turning over the disfigured volume, speculating on how it had come into Thomasine's hands, and thinking of the occasion when she had last read it; and so thinking, for a moment she forgot the rabbit with its incongruous garnishment, and why she had descended to the kitchen. She was roused from her reverie by the maid-of-all-work coming in excitedly.
"Oh my, miss! What do you think? Thomasine has flown out at missus, and packed up her things in a bundle, and gone."
"Thomasine gone!"
"Lawk, miss! She wouldn't stand no nonsense, she said; and if the missus didn't like her cooking she might cook for herself. She wouldn't stay. Thomasine had a flaming temper; it's the way of them red-headed girls."
"Thomasine gone!"
"Gone in a tantrum, her cheeks as red as her head. I can't think what folks find to admire in her hair. It is thick and red. I don't fancy carrots."
"But whither is she gone? She is a stranger in London, and has no friends."
"I don't suppose, miss, she knows herself."
"Has she gone back to Mrs. Saltren?"
"I don't fancy so. She was in such a rage, she thought of nothing but going, and never even asked for her wage."
"Do you know in which direction she went?"
"No, I was not on the look-out. She came flaring on me to give me good-bye, and away she went. She said that as the missus had insulted her, go she would to where she would be valued."
"Have you no idea where she is gone?"
"I don't know." The girl hesitated, then said, "Thomasine said as how there was a gentleman at the hotel where Mrs. Saltren first was who admired her and said she ought never to demean herself to go into service—I can't say, she has
