“Well,” she said, throwing the shawl around her, and shaking out the ribbons of her bonnet, “I think the woman in that glass is quite as good-looking as that whiflet down-stairs, with her white apron, and her hair combed back like a Chinaman. How I wanted to shake her.”
“Now, if I was you—” said Ellen, beginning to feel uncomfortable about her guest.
“Well, what if you was me?”
“I would just take off my bonnet and shawl, so that the ladies, if any of ’em come up, would not think it strange. I will hang them up in the hall-closet, and give you a nice apron to put on—that is, if you have a mind to stay longer.”
Jane did not take the hint given in these words. She had made up her mind to stay and get an interview with the lady of the house, if possible. With this intent she took off her bonnet and shawl, gave them to Ellen, and invested herself in the dainty white apron which her friend brought from another room.
“Now,” she said, with a mocking smile, “you needn’t fidget yourself any more about me. I’m neither going to steal nor disgrace you. I wasn’t brought up so deep in the woods as you seem to think—had more education than a dozen such creatures as that down-stairs, and know more than fifty of ’em rolled into one. Now sit down here, and let us two have a talk.”
Ellen drew a seat close to the cosy chair in which Jane Kelly placed herself.
“Well, what shall we talk about—old times?”
“Old times—not a bit of it; the very name of that hospital makes me sick. I want to get out of it, and mean to. No, no; tell me about your own way of living. What kind of a lady is this Mrs. Judson?”
“Oh,” said Ellen, “she’s one of the nicest ladies in the world, of course.”