'But her ladyship fainted,' she argued.
'Well,' said he, 'wasn't that why you went for the salts?'
'To be sure,' says she. ''Twas an order to go for the salts.'
She pushed open the door. My lady was still fingering the box. The maid paid no attention to the box, but she looked at my lady's mask; from the mask she looked towards Kelly with a shrug of the shoulders, which said 'Zany' as plain as writing.
Kelly had no thoughts to spare for the maid.
'Madam,' he said, 'here is your maid, to whose attentions I may leave you.'
He advanced, made a bow, took up his hat, held out his hand for his snuff-box.
'But I cannot let you go,' she answered, 'without I thank you'--all the time she was running her fingers here and there for the spring. Kelly noticed, too, with some anxiety, that while he had gone to the door she had made use of the occasion to strip off her glove--'and thank you fitly, as I should have done ere this. But the trouble I was in has made me backward.'
'Nay, madam,' said Kelly impatiently, and taking a step nearer, 'there is no need for thanks. No man could have done less.'
Her ladyship's fingers travelled faster in their vain attempt.