Softened by the “miss,” the girl laughed, and said, “What makes you think that, my man?”
“Give her this, miss,” said the gypsy, “and she will come to me.”
He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper.
Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under the corner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger and thumb operating through the linen. By this means she avoided two evils—her fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not dirty her fingers.
She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose arms were deep in a wash-tub.
Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, and for six months would not put her hand to anything. But those twin cajolers of the female heart, Dignity and Laziness, made her so utterly wretched, that she returned to her old habits of work, only she combined with it the sweets of domination.
Sally came in and said, “It's an old gypsy, which he have brought you this.”
Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her brown but shapely arms, and, whipping a wet hand under her apron, took the note just as Sally had. It contained these words only:
“NURSE—The old Romance will tell you all about me.
“REGINALD.”