“Father is at market, Jane.”
“Yes, miss, but I told the gentleman you were at home.”
“Me! what have I to do with father's visitors?”
“Miss,” replied Jane mysteriously, “it is a parson, and you are so fond of them, I could not think to let him go away without getting a word with anybody; and he has such a face. La, miss, you never saw such a face.”
“Silly girl, what have I to do with handsome faces?”
“But he is not handsome, miss, not in the least, only he is beautiful. You go and see else.”
“I hate strangers' faces, but I will go to him, Jane; it is my duty, since it is a clergyman. I will just go upstairs.”
“La, miss, what for? you are always neat, you are—nobody ever catches you in your dishables like the rest of 'em.”
“I'll just smooth my hair.”
“La, miss, what for? it is smooth as marble—it always is.”