"You certainly must," that lady assured her with business-like coldness.
"I—I thought my aunt was unkind to me," faltered Jane, with every appearance of guilt. "I was very much vexed with her and—and with my Cousin Gwendolen, and so——"
"Your aunt's name, if you please? And you may also state the occasion of her being unkind to you."
"My aunt's name is Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe," said Jane, endeavoring to pull herself together with very little success. "She was unkind to me because—because— She accused me of— No; I—I cannot tell you."
"It is quite unnecessary, Miss—Aubrey-Blythe," Mrs. Potts assured her, with an unpleasant smile. "You are not, I am sure, a suitable person for the situation. Good morning."
Jane wept a little when she confided this last failure to Bertha Forbes's sympathizing ear. "I couldn't tell that woman what Aunt Agatha said to me about Mr. Towle; now, could I?"
"She wouldn't have believed it, if you had," said Miss Forbes gruffly. "Better try another tack," she added, still more gruffly. "Better yet, go back to your uncle. He can't be a bad sort, from what you tell me."
"Uncle Robert? Oh, no! he is—he has never been unkind to me. I—I quite love Uncle Robert; that is to say, I should love to love him, if he would let me."
"Then you'll go back to England like a sensible girl; tell your uncle you've made a fool of yourself, but you'll try not to do it again. Think it over till to-morrow morning, and remember I'll take care of the transportation."
Jane reflected upon this eminently sane proposition over night; then she faced her new-found friend and advisor with a pale but determined face. "Thank you for offering to pay my passage back to England," she said, "but I really can't accept it. I couldn't face Aunt Agatha and Gwendolen and—and the others. I'd rather scrub floors than to do that! Perhaps I'll have to scrub in the end, for my money is almost gone."