Although he had been accustomed to work at Stoke Ferry Farm he did not resemble in any way the rough country lads one is accustomed to see in the agricultural districts.
He had a well-knit figure, a white glossy skin, a fine and almost feminine cast of features, and hair, after it had been cleaned and combed, which shone like virgin gold.
When his ablutions and toilette had been completed, he was called by the maid-servant, who was in the front kitchen.
He entered, and sat himself down on one of the chairs.
“Missus will see you presently,” said the girl.
Alf nodded, and quietly awaited the interview which was to follow. He felt a great deal more comfortable than he had done for a long time.
He glanced complacently at his new things, as a scholar surveys his bombazine gown, and a bishop his first pair of lawn sleeves.
In about half an hour he was shown up to the first floor, and there he found the two ladies whom he had seen on the previous night at the lodging-house in Westminster.
The young lady who the maid had told him was Miss Stanbridge appeared to be the real mistress of the house.
She professed to be very pleased to see him, and spoke in a kind manner when addressing him.