Agnes was left with a smile on her face, but it faded before she had watched the four-wheeler out at the end of the street.
"Puir thing! She disna ken a thing aboot life! I hope the Lord will look after her. Naebody else can."
Isla had no misgivings when she arrived at her destination. She was received with respectful consideration by Robbins, who passed her on to a house-maid who, with a polite but distant air showed her to her room. It was on the third floor, but it was a large and beautiful chamber, with which even the most fastidious person could not have found a single fault.
"Mrs. Bodley-Chard has waited tea for you in the boudoir, Miss," said the girl.
"Thank you; and may I ask your name? We shall probably have to see a good deal of each other, so we may as well be friendly. I am Miss Mackinnon."
"I'm Cecilia Owen. I'm called Owen upstairs and Cissy in the kitchen," answered the girl, surprised into cordiality of tone.
"And which do you prefer?"
"I don't mind. I shall like whatever you call me, Miss."
"Then we shall say Cissy. In the country--where I come from--we don't call our women-servants by their surnames," said Isla pleasantly as she laid her gloves down and poured out some water.
"I'll get you some hot, Miss, and if you like I'll unpack after tea downstairs. I'd like to help you."