Somewhat out of conceit with his folly, he went to the servants’ entrance and rang the bell there. When the door was opened, he saw Miss Ward standing behind the maid who admitted him.
“Oh,” she said, looking at the string of skates as if she had hardly expected to see them again, “so you have brought our things back?”
“Such were my instructions,” he said, taken aback by her manner. “You had no instructions. What do you mean by getting our skates into your charge under false pretences? I was about to send the police to take them from you. How dare you tell me that you were sent to wait on me, when you know very well that you were nothing of the sort?”
“I couldn’t help it, Miss,” he replied submissively. “I am a natural born liar—always was. I know that it must appear dreadful to you that never told a lie, and don’t hardly know what a lie is, belonging as you do to a class where none is ever told. But common people like me tells lies just as a duck swims. I ask your pardon, Miss, most humble, and I hope the young ladies’ll be able to tell one set of skates from t’other; for I’m blest if I can.”
“Put them down. Miss Wilson wishes to speak to you before you go. Susan, show him the way.”
“Hope you ain’t been and got a poor cove into trouble, Miss?”
“Miss Wilson knows how you have behaved.”
He smiled at her benevolently and followed Susan upstairs. On their way they met Jane, who stole a glance at him, and was about to pass by, when he said:
“Won’t you say a word to Miss Wilson for a poor common fellow, honored young lady? I have got into dreadful trouble for having made bold to assist you this morning.”
“You needn’t give yourself the pains to talk like that,” replied Jane in an impetuous whisper. “We all know that you’re only pretending.”