"I don't know what wine to get," she murmured, "nor what the price ought to be, nor even where to get it. I must ask some one. Not Mrs. Short—and Mrs. Cloudesley would offer to send him some. But I can go to Miss Jones; she won't scold me, I hope, as she scolds poor Maria Freak."
Maria Freak was Miss Jones's last new girl, and a few days ago she had complained sorely to Ruth of her mistress's continual fault-finding. While waiting at the door, Ruth heard voices, and could distinguish Miss Jones's own monotonous thin tones, going on, and on, and on, in a very exasperating style.
"If you allow yourself to acquire such slovenly ways, Maria—or to continue them, I should say, for you don't need to acquire them, having them by nature—you'll never make a parlour-maid, so don't think it. You'd better turn your mind to being a kitchen or scullery-maid, and to stay so all your life, and—"
"There's a knock at the door, miss," said Maria.
"Why don't you go to it, then? Don't I tell you often never to keep any one waiting?"
"How could I go, and you jawing of me?" inquired Maria sulkily.
"Say ma'am, not miss, Maria,—and speaking, not jawing. You're the most hopeless girl I ever trained yet. Go to the door, child."
"Is that you, Ruth Garland?" cried Maria. "And did you hear her? Did you ever hear the like?"
"Does she always go on so?" said Ruth.
Maria grinned. "Oh no—only when I do something she don't like. I used to think I must run away home; but, bless you, she's real kind except with her tongue. Was it to see me you came?"