"Yes, thank you. Will you unfasten that little box for me?"
Murtagh, having unfastened the box and poked the fire, retired, saying that he would come and fetch her as soon as tea was ready; and the girl was left alone to realize that her new life had actually begun.
CHAPTER II.
At eight o'clock next morning, Murtagh and Rosie set off together from the schoolroom to fetch their guest, both of them anxious for the glory of introducing her to their uncle.
Adrienne had already left her room, and was standing in the strip of sunlight that streamed through her open door, looking doubtfully down the corridor. She wore a rough gray woolen dress, fastened at the throat with a knot of bright blue ribbon, and in her belt she had put two or three red leaves from the Virginia creeper that clustered round her window. The sunlight, shining full upon her golden hair, made of the whole a picture that was extremely satisfactory to Murtagh's eye.
"I say, Rosie!" he exclaimed, standing still in the dark end of the corridor, "doesn't she look jolly like that?"
"Yes, isn't she pretty? I expect she's had all her clothes made in Paris, too," Rosie replied in an enthusiastic whisper.
"Paris!" retorted Murtagh, contemptuously. But at that moment Adrienne perceived them, and came forward with a bright "Good morning."
"I guessed that the bell meant breakfast," she continued, "and I was wondering how I should find my way to the dining-room."