The woman stood silent; but there was a protest in her very bearing, in the pose of her hands, the expression of her mouth and eyebrows. Flossy looked at her once, then turned her head away and said—
"Go on."
"There is nothing of importance to tell you, ma'am."
"How do you know what is important and what is not? For instance, Miss Enid was found by the General crying in the conservatory this morning. I want to know why she cried."
The maid—whose name was Parker—sniffed significantly as she replied—
"It's not easy to tell why young ladies cry, ma'am. The wind's in the east—perhaps that has something to do with it."
"Oh, very well!" said Mrs. Vane coldly. "If the wind is in the east, and that is all, Parker, you had better find some position in the world in which your talents will be of more use to you than they are to me. I will give you a month's pay instead of the usual notice, and you can leave Beechfield to-night."
The maid's face turned a little pale.
"I'm sure I beg pardon, ma'am," she said rather hurriedly; "I didn't mean that I had nothing to say. I—I've served you as well as I could, ma'am, ever since I came." There was something not unlike a tear in her beady black eyes.
"Have you?" said her mistress indifferently. "Then let me hear what you have been doing during the last few days. If your notes are not worth hearing"—she made a long pause, which Parker felt to be ominous, and then continued calmly—"there is a train to London to-night, and no doubt your mother will be glad to see you, character or no character."