Ella’s face was now aflame, partly at the coarseness of the words, partly at the remembrance of the way in which she had been visited while at Mrs Brandon’s; and she trembled as she thought of the consequences of her retreat being discovered.
“I think that is all I have to say now,” said Mrs Marter. “But stay: the young ladies may as well be summoned before you go away. Have the goodness to ring that bell.”
Ella obeyed, and the result was the coming of the footman in drab and scarlet, with dirty stockings, and an imperfectly-powdered head—that is to say, it was snowy in front, and greasy and black in the rear.
“Let the young ladies know that I wish to see them directly, Thomas,” said the lady.
“Yes, mum,” said Thomas, who, on turning, winked at Ella, not from impertinence, but from an ignorant desire to be upon friendly terms.
Five minutes of utter silence now ensued, when there was a distant squeal, a rush of feet, then a noise as of some one falling downstairs, followed by a loud howl.
“Bless me—those children!” said Mrs Marter faintly; and directly after the young ladies came tumbling into the room.