"But were you not very much frightened?" continued Margaret. "What did you say when mamma spoke to you?"
"I was frightened just at first," replied Amy; "but then I knew I was not doing anything wrong, and so I did not really care."
"Well, if you are not the boldest little thing I ever met with," said
Margaret; "even Dora would have cared, if she had been you."
"It is no use to say any more," exclaimed Dora, in rather an irritated voice, for she prided herself upon caring for nobody; "we must leave off talking now, and proceed to work. I am resolved to have all my things unpacked, and settled to-night; so I shall choose my drawers and closets, and say where I will have them put, and then Morris may as well begin."
"But it is so late. Miss," said poor Morris, who was quite exhausted with the packing of the previous night, and the fatigue of the long day's journey; "and yours and Miss Margaret's things are mixed, many of them."
Dora coloured, and said angrily, "You forget yourself, Morris; I have told you that I choose to have my boxes unpacked to-night."
Amy longed to petition for a little mercy; but she was beginning to learn not to interfere where she had no power, and Dora immediately walked round the room to examine drawers and closets, and to give directions, while Morris stood by, the picture of despairing fatigue. Margaret was too indolent to give herself much trouble about the matter, and Amy was rather astonished to see that Dora did not consult her in the least. She chose the best of everything for herself; and when Morris inquired what Miss Margaret wished to have done, the only answer she could get was, that it did not signify; at any rate, to-morrow would be quite soon enough to settle, for she was far too tired to think about it now; and Morris, thankful for even a partial respite, asked for no more orders, but hastened away to make the proper selection of trunks and imperials. Dora and Margaret then arranged their dress and went down-stairs to tea, followed by Amy, who felt alarmed as she thought of encountering her aunt's eye after her misdemeanour. Mrs Harrington, however, took but little notice of her; she had in some degree recovered her energy, and was able to exert herself at the tea-table: and as whatever she did always occupied her whole attention, she seemed to be quite engrossed in cups and saucers, milk and cream; and Amy placed herself at the farthest distance from her, taking care to have the urn between them, and reserving a place at her side for her mamma, who was standing at the window, talking in a low voice to Mr Harrington. But when the labour of tea-making was over, Mrs Harrington was able to think of other things, and her first inquiry was, what the girls thought of their rooms, and why they had been obliged to send Amy into the servants' hall.
"I suppose there is no bell, mamma," said Dora; "for we rang a great many times, but no one came."
"Where was Miss Morton?" said Mrs Harrington; "she ought to have been with you; it would not signify her going amongst the servants, but it was highly improper for your cousin."
"Emily Morton always thinks she has enough to do to take care of herself," said Margaret; "she is not over-fond of helping any one."