"Why, Jack Everett—what in the world!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice from the doorway.
All three participants in the late tragedy raised their eyes to the pretty and—to Jane's notion—somewhat too smartly dressed young woman, who was surveying the scene in an attitude of extreme surprise.
The man rose rather shamefacedly to his feet; the small boy, breaking away from Jane, dashed forward with a loud, ecstatic whoop to precipitate himself and his milky pinafore upon the lady; while Jane hastily turned down her cuffs, a deep flush of vexation mounting to her forehead.
"I 'pilled all 'e milk, muzzer!" shouted the infant. "Zen I bumped my head, an' I cwied an' I cwied!"
"Where is Mary?" demanded the newcomer.
"Mary has just 'shtipped out for a minut'," explained the young man mildly. "She announced her intention of doing so shortly after you left the house. Buster and I have been keeping house as well as we knew how; and then—this—er—young lady——"
"I am the maid from the Streeter agency," said Jane distinctly. She felt sure now that the man was not a gentleman; she also decided that she disliked him exceedingly.
"Oh!" murmured the lady, turning a keenly penetrating and speculative gaze upon Jane. "Well, I am glad you've come. What is your name?"
"My name is—Jane," replied that individual, drawing a deep breath. The "Aubrey-Blythe" refused to be uttered.