Shivering with fear and shame, Polly made her escape to run up to her room, throw herself on the bed, and cry as if her heart would break, just missing Humphrey, who came round without loss of time.
“Now,” said Mrs Lloyd, as soon as the door was closed, “what have you to say to this?”
“Only that it was my fault,” said Humphrey—“all my fault; so don’t blame the poor little girl. It was all my doing.”
“Now, look here, Humphrey Lloyd,” exclaimed the housekeeper, speaking in a low, angry voice, “you like your place here?”
“Yes, if you and he could treat me a little better.”
“Never mind about that,” said Mrs Lloyd.
“It’s no use to mind,” said Humphrey, bitterly. “If I had been a dog instead of your own flesh and blood, you couldn’t have treated me worse.”
“Treated you badly!” exclaimed Mrs Lloyd; “haven’t you been well fed, educated, and placed in a good situation?”
“Yes—all that,” said Humphrey. “And for reward you fly in my face. Now, look here, Humphrey. If you so much as look at that girl again, let alone speak to her, off you go. You shall not stay on the premises another day.”
“Well,” said Humphrey, “that’s pleasant; but all the same I don’t see what power you have in the matter, so long as I satisfy the young master.”