"Aye," said Floxham to his companion, "that's allus th' road when he shows hissen."
The same day Janey Briarley presented herself to Mr. French's housekeeper, with a message from her mother. Having delivered the message, she was on her way from the housekeeper's room, when Miss Ffrench, who sat in the drawing-room, spoke through the open door to the servant.
"If that is the child," she said, "bring her here to me."
Janey entered the great room, awe-stricken and over-powered by its grandeur. Miss Ffrench, who sat near the fire, addressed her, turning her head over her shoulder.
"Come here," she commanded.
Janey advanced with something approaching tremor. Miss Ffrench was awe-inspiring anywhere, but Miss Ffrench amid the marvels of her own drawing-room, leaning back in her chair and regarding her confusion with a suggestion of friendly notice, was terrible.
"Sit down," she said, "and talk to me."
But here the practical mind rebelled and asserted itself, in spite of abasement of spirit.
"I haven't getten nowt to talk about," said Janey, stoutly. "What mun I say?"
"Anything you like," responded Miss Ffrench. "I am not particular. There's a chair."
Janey seated herself in it. It was a large one, in which her small form was lost. Her parcel was a big one, but Miss Ffrench did not tell her to put it down, so she held it on her knee and was almost hidden behind it, presenting somewhat the appearance of a huge newspaper package, clasped by arms and surmounted by a small, sharp face and an immense bonnet, with a curious appendage of short legs and big shoes.
