"Why, of course she has," Mr. Jones answered; "she's been a very good little maid, and we've had a most pleasant day."
"Humph!" ejaculated the old woman. She stretched out her hand, and, taking Melina by the arm, pulled her into the passage. "Good night," she said, and forthwith shut the door in her neighbours' faces.
"There's manners for you!" exclaimed William indignantly.
"I hope she'll give that poor child some supper," said Mr. Jones; "I'm glad to remember that she ate a good tea."
"Poor Melina!" sighed Mrs. Jones sympathetically; "what a home-coming for her after a day's pleasure! Poor little girl!"
Meanwhile Mrs. Berryman had drawn Melina into the kitchen, which was lit by a small hand-lamp on the table. On the table, too, stood a bottle of spirits and a tumbler.
"Who was that knocking at the door just before you arrived?" Mrs. Berryman demanded.
"I don't know," Melina replied, "he was a stranger. He spoke to Mr. Jones and asked if you lived here, and when he heard that you did he said he'd call again to-morrow."
"Who can he be?" the old woman muttered to herself. "Did you see what he was like?" she inquired.
"I only saw that he was tall, and I think—oh yes, I am sure that he wore a beard! Mr. Jones thought he knew his voice—"