“Nothing, Senhora Justina. The cousin of the mistress,” she added in a lower voice, “comes here every day, that’s all. A good-looking fellow!”
Justina smiled again, showing her false teeth. Her squinting eye looking inquiringly at Juliana.
“I don’t think so,” said Juliana, in answer to that mute interrogation, “at least not for the present.”
“Well, good-by,” said Justina, arranging her shawl again. “It is growing late. My mistress is coming to dine here to-day. I have spent the whole morning, since seven o’clock, ironing petticoats.”
“And I too,” replied Juliana.
Just then Luiza rang.
“Good-by, Senhora Juliana,” said the other, putting on her hat.
“Good-by, Senhora Justina.”
She accompanied her to the landing, and they embraced each other once more. Juliana then hastened to Luiza’s room; she found her mistress already up and dressing herself, smiling gayly.
Leopoldina’s letter, written in slanting lines, and full of gross mistakes in orthography, was as follows:—