Jane was nearer thirty than twenty, a comely, fresh-faced girl with an air of youthfulness, attired in a sort of Quaker gray gown, with a lace kerchief crossed over her bosom. Her hair was banded straight above her ears and gathered in a knot behind.
"Oh, miss, you look fagged out. Mrs. Jarvis said when you'd had a good wash you must go to bed awhile. There's nothing freshens you up like that. It must have been an awful journey! My brother has gone out to Ohio. Do you live anywhere near that?"
"Not so very far away. And the Ohio river runs by us."
"I want to know now! The world's a funny sort of place, isn't it, Miss, with land here and water there and great lakes up North and a gulf at the South that they do say is part of the ocean. Now—shan't I unpack your portmanteau?"
"Monsieur de Ronville wouldn't let mother pack up much, he said things could be bought here."
"Yes, there's no end of them now that we are trading openly with France."
"And I was growing so fast," she continued apologetically, for the two frocks looked but a meagre outfit. One was a delicate gingham made out of a skirt of her mother's when gowns were fuller, the other her best white one tucked up to the waist and with some rare embroidery.
"Can I help you any?"
"No," returned Daffodil in a soft tone and with a half smile. "I'm used to waiting on myself."
"I'll come in and fasten your frock. You'll put on the white one;" and Jane withdrew.