"Her ladyship is in a regular passion," David said, through the door. "You'll repent it, Graves, as sure as you are alive."
"Hold your tongue, and be off," was the reply; "I can take care of myself, by your leave!"
David grumbled a reply, and again departed.
In other times, Griselda would have shown some sign of desire to avert the storm of Lady Betty's anger; but to-day she went through her toilette without any undue haste.
"Graves," she said, "I want you to go to Crown Alley for me, and see a poor, man who is dying, and take him some comforts. Surely there are plenty of wasted luxuries that might be of use to him! And, Graves, he has a dear little girl—such a clever child!—and as lovely as an angel, though half-starved. Graves, will you take some of that mock-turtle soup and a bottle of wine before night to No. 6, Crown Alley?"
"Well, to say the truth, Miss Griselda, I ain't partial to low places like Crown Alley, and——"
"But you might talk to the man of good things—you might tell him of the love of God."
Graves shrugged her shoulders.
"I must tell him first of the wrath of God—poor dying creature!—if he has been mixed up with theatre folk. It's awful to think of him!"
"Do go—to please me, dear Graves," Griselda said. With a sudden impulse, she stooped and kissed her rugged face as Graves bent down to arrange a knot of ribbon on the chintz bodice. "Oh, Graves, I am so happy! I want to make someone else happy. Don't you understand? Do go; and take what you can in your hand. Now, what do I care for scolding?" she said. "I feel as if I had wings to-day;" and in another moment Griselda had tripped downstairs, and was at the door of the sitting-room, where on a sofa reclined Lady Betty.