Janey got up and made room for her to pass, and when she had passed, gave her a chair, very much overweighted by the baby as she did so.
"Does tha want to see mother?"
"If your mother is busy, you will serve every purpose. The housekeeper told me that Mrs. Dixon was ill, and as I was passing I thought I would come in."
Janey's utter disbelief in this explanation was a sentiment not easily concealed, even by an adept in controlling facial expression, and she was not an adept. But Miss Ffrench was not at all embarrassed by any demonstration of a lack of faith which she might have perceived. When Janey resumed her seat, she broke the silence by an entirely unexpected observation. She touched the baby delicately with the point of her parasol—very delicately indeed.
"I suppose," she remarked, "that this is an extremely handsome child."
This with the air of one inquiring for information.
"Nay, he is na," retorted Janey unrelentingly. "He's good enow, but he nivver wur hurt wi' good looks. None on 'em wur, an' he's fou'est o' th' lot. I should think tha could see that fur thysen."
"Oh," replied Miss Ffrench, "then I suppose I am wrong. My idea was that at that age children all looked alike."
"Loike him?" said Janey dryly. "Did tha think as tha did?"
As the young Briarley in question was of a stolid and unornamental type, uncertain of feature and noticeable chiefly for a large and unusually bald head of extraordinary phrenological development, this gave the matter an entirely novel aspect.