“Yes, you can take the things,” she said as the maid approached. “I can't tip you as I should, Sarah. I'm going to get you something pretty the next time I go to New York.”
Sarah had heard this before.
“And if you know of any one going to the village this morning, I want a piece of lace braid. Have you heard how Miss Julia is?”
“She was down at breakfast, ma'am, and Mr. Evringham had her out to the stable to see Essex Maid.”
“He did? In the rain? How very imprudent!”
After Sarah had departed with her burden, Mrs. Evringham took off her eyeglasses.
“There, Eloise, you heard that? It's just as I thought. He is taking a fancy to her.”
The girl smiled without turning her head. “Oh no, that wasn't your prophecy, mother. You said she was too plain to have a chance with our fastidious host.”
“Well, didn't she look forlorn last night at the dinner table?” demanded Mrs. Evringham, a challenge in her voice.
“Indeed she did, the poor baby. She looked exactly as if she had two female relatives in the house, neither of whom would lift a finger to help her, even though she was just off a sick bed. The same relatives don't know this minute how or where she spent the evening.”