“Please, she’s a-washing at the back.”
“Is that she that singeth?”
“Yes, that’s her,” returned Molly, carefully avoiding grammar.
The song came floating to them through the balmy June air.
“‘O God, my strength, and fortitude,
Of force I must love Thee!
Thou art my castle and defence
In my necessity.’”
The strange lady sighed, much to Molly’s perplexity; then she rapped at the door. It was opened by Jenny, who stood with an inquiring look on her face, which asked the visitor plainly to say who she was.
“You don’t know me, then, Jenny Lavender?”
“No, Ma— Dear heart! is it Mrs Millicent?”
“It is Millicent Danbury, Jenny. And I am Millicent Danbury still, though you are Jenny Fenton.”
“Pray you, come within, Mrs Millicent,” said Jenny cordially. “I’m right glad to see you. There’s been a many changes since we met—Molly, dust that chair, quick, and bring it up for the gentlewoman.”