The same day Janey Briarley presented herself to Mr. Ffrench's housekeeper, with a message from her mother. Having delivered the message, she was on her way from the housekeeper's room, when Miss Ffrench, who sat in the drawing-room, spoke through the open door to the servant.
"If that is the child," she said, "bring her here to me."
Janey entered the great room, awe-stricken and overpowered by its grandeur. Miss Ffrench, who sat near the fire, addressed her, turning her head over her shoulder.
"Come here," she commanded.
Janey advanced with something approaching tremor. Miss Ffrench was awe-inspiring anywhere, but Miss Ffrench amid the marvels of her own drawing-room, leaning back in her chair and regarding her confusion with a suggestion of friendly notice, was terrible.
"Sit down," she said, "and talk to me."
"SIT DOWN," SHE SAID, "AND TALK TO ME."
But here the practical mind rebelled and asserted itself, in spite of abasement of spirit.