When Ellen had removed her muddy boots, she followed the other girl upstairs to the work-room, in which her aunt was seated, engaged in putting the finishing touches to a silk mantle, and at the same time vigorously scolding her companion, a young girl, with pale, thin face, and large dark eyes. It was many years since Ellen had seen her aunt, for, although she did not live so very far from her brother's home, Miss Mansfield was generally too busy to be able to pay him a visit.
Ellen looked at her timidly and anxiously as she entered the work-room. Miss Mansfield was a tall, thin woman, with sallow complexion, sharp features, a quick, observant glance, which nothing escaped, and an equally active tongue. In the work-room, her tones were high, and her manner marked by considerable asperity. But when addressing her employers, her voice was soft and insinuating, and her bearing graciousness itself. A tyrant to those about her, she could be obsequious without measure to any one whose favour she was anxious to win.
"So you've got here at last, then," she exclaimed as Ellen entered, speaking quickly, in spite of the pins which she held between her thin lips, and on account of which it doubtless was, that she gave Ellen no kiss of welcome such as a niece had a right to expect. "I suppose you did not think to be met, did you? I thought you were old enough to find your way here alone, and I am too busy to afford to waste any time, I can tell you. I hope you did not give that porter more than sixpence?"
"I had given him the shilling before you spoke, ma'am," replied Ellen.
"Then, my dear, you should not have done so. You should never give that sort of people what they ask. They'll be sure to cheat you, if they can. When you've lived in town a while, you'll know better, I trust, than to let yourself be imposed on so easily. This is the first time you've been from home, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Ellen timidly, with difficulty keeping back the tears which were ready to fall.
"Why, what a tall girl you are, to be sure!" continued her aunt, taking a pin from the front of her dress, which was so studded with needles and pins as to give her the appearance of an animated pincushion. "Goodness me! How wet your dress is! It looks like a soaked rag, and it was clean on this morning, I daresay—wasn't it? I thought so," she continued, as Ellen answered in the affirmative. "I hope you have not brought many such dresses, for they'll be of no use to you here. Anything so light as that, is not fit for town wear. You want something that will not require washing every week, and that won't spoil with a drop of rain. Well, you'd better go and take it off now, and then, I daresay you'll like a cup of tea. Julia, show Ellen where she is to sleep, and don't stop there chattering, but come back to your work directly. By the bye, I hope you left them all well at home?"
"Yes, thank you; all are well except Jerry," Ellen replied, in a faint voice, as she quitted the room, and followed her guide to a little room at the top of the house, very barely furnished, and having, to her eyes, accustomed to the purity of country surroundings, a dingy appearance.
Left to herself here, Ellen sank down on the little bed, and gave vent to the feelings of disappointment and discomfort produced by her aunt's cold, brusque reception in a flood of tears.