"Git out o' me kitchen, or I'll tak' the procker to yez!" shouted Mary. "How dare I! Indade! Ye'll find it ain't best to gain the ill will o' Mary MacGrotty afore you're t'rough."
Jane went slowly up the stairs revolving many things in her mind. She was even considering the advisability of confiding her whole story to Mrs. Belknap, when that young matron's cold, even tones fell upon her ear.
"I wish to speak with you, Jane, for a moment," she said, with an air of severity, which stiffened Jane's pretty upper lip into haughty indifference.
"Yes, Mrs. Belknap," said the girl with a perfect propriety of manner, which aroused a wholly irrelevant resentment in the breast of the other woman.
"I wish to tell you, Jane, that last evening after you had retired a strange man came here—to the front door—inquiring for you. Mr. Belknap, who answered the bell, referred the matter to me, and I told him to say to the man that he could not see you."
Jane stared at her mistress in silence, indignation tempered with a certain speculative curiosity looking out of her bright eyes.
"He appeared"—Mrs. Belknap went on, with rising irritation—"quite like a gentleman. But why should a man—any man—come to my front door to inquire for you? I am sorry, Jane, but this circumstance, in connection with others, looks very suspicious to me. I do not approve of a girl in your situation attracting the attention of a man—more particularly of a man in a higher station of life. It is not at all proper; you ought to know that."
"Proper?" echoed Jane inquiringly.
"Perhaps I should have said suitable," amended Mrs. Belknap. "But I insist that you shall be quite truthful with me. Who was this man?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane. "I don't know any men." Then she blushed guiltily.