"Oh, I'm not a bit tired. I thought we'd take one or two more rooms. The light is wonderful to-day."
Up to the present moment Eliza in this temple of genius had, as has been said, galvanized her energies and followed where her mistress led, at any cost, as unquestioningly as the needle follows the magnet; but this was the moment of her emancipation. Mrs. Ballard herself gave her the cue, for she added with consideration for an unwonted sentiment:—
"Unless you'd rather stay and look at that reminder of home a while longer, Eliza? I'll come back for you."
"Oh, would you, just as soon, Mrs. Ballard?"
The eagerness of the tone touched her mistress.
"Why, of course, my dear, do so; but I'd get up if I were you." Eliza had sunk back upon the bench with the certainty and impact of a pile-driver. "There is such a crowd you can't see anything from here but the sky."
"I feel as if I could look at that sky for a week," responded Eliza with a sincerity which admitted of no doubt.
"It is wonderful, isn't it?" returned her mistress, unconscious of plagiarism. She patted Eliza's shoulder. "I'll be back soon," she assured her, and moved away.
"The good creature!" she thought. "How selfish I have been to her! I ought occasionally to let her go home; but I know she'd never go without me. She wouldn't believe that I'd eat three meals a day, no matter how faithfully I promised." And Mrs. Ballard laughed a little before becoming engrossed in an old favorite.