A horrible sense of disgrace and isolation gradually descended upon the girl. She sobbed wildly as she looked over her few cherished possessions preparatory to packing them in the box she dragged in from the attic; her mother's watch, a locket containing her father's picture, a ring or two, her shabby little gowns and meager toilet things. By the time she had locked and strapped the box with shaking fingers she was shivering with cold and faint with hunger.
The latter primal urge finally drove her forth and down the rear stairways to the kitchen, where she found the servants in full tide of preparation for dinner.
"Lud ha' mussy, Miss Jane Evelyn!" cried Susan. "Where 'ave you be'n to look that white an' done hup?"
"In my room," said Jane shortly. "Will you give me some tea and bread, Susan? I'll take it up myself. No; please don't follow me. I wish to be alone."
"Somethink's hup wi' 'er," observed cook sagaciously, as Jane disappeared with a brace of thick sandwiches cut by the zealous Susan.
"They'd orto be 'shamed o' theirsels; that they 'ad, a-puttin' upon a sweet young lady like Miss Jane Evelyn," opined Susan. "I'd like to give 'em all a piece o' my mind; it 'ud do me good. It would so!"
"You're a goose, Susan," laughed cook. "An' so is she, if all I 'ear is c'rrect. Tummas says as 'ow that military-appearin' gent wot comes 'ere is crazy to marry 'er. An 'e's rich's cream!"
"Oh, lud!" sniffed Susan, her nose in the air, "'e may be rich, but 'e's bald as a happle! She'd never 'ave 'im; I'll bet me hown 'air an' me combin's to boot."