The woman's manner changed directly.
“You shall have them this moment, miss, and my own candlesticks, which they are plated.”
She brought them, and advised her only to light one. “They don't carry well, miss,” said she. “They are wax—or summat.”
“Then they are summat,” said Miss Gale, after a single glance at their composition.
“I'll make you a nice hot supper, miss, in half an hour,” said the woman, maternally, as if she were going to give it her.
“No, thank you. Bring me a two-penny loaf, and a scuttle of coals.”
“La, miss, no more than that—out of a sov'?”
“Yes—THE CHANGE.”
Having shown Mrs. Grip her father was a Yankee, she darted upstairs, with her candles. Zoe came to meet her, and literally dazzled her.
Rhoda stared at her with amazement and growing rapture. “Oh, you beauty!” she cried, and drank her in from head to foot.