“Downstairs.”
“What had you to go down for? You forgot something, I suppose. But what is the matter with your eyes?”
“They burn a little to-night, dear,” said Phoebe, quietly.
The days went on, and there was no reply to Phoebe’s audacious note, and there was a reply to Mrs Latrobe’s situation-hunting. She announced to Rhoda on the ninth morning at breakfast that she had heard of an excellent place for her. Lady Kitty Mainwaring the mother of Molly Delawarr’s future husband, was on the look-out for a “woman.” She had three daughters, the eldest of whom was the Kitty who had been at Delawarr Court. Rhoda would have to wait on these young ladies, as well as their mother. It was a most eligible situation. Mrs Latrobe, on Rhoda’s behalf, had accepted it at once.
Rhoda sat playing with her tea-spoon, and making careful efforts to balance it on the edge of her cup.
“Do they know who wants it?” she asked, in a husky voice.
“Of course, my dear! You did not look I should make any secret of it, sure?”
Rhoda’s colour grew deeper. It was evident that she was engaged in a most severe struggle with herself. She looked up at last.
“Very good, Aunt Anne. I will go to Lady Kitty,” she said.
“My dear, I accepted the place. Of course you will go,” returned Mrs Latrobe, in a voice of some astonishment.