“I noticed them, and shall write this very morning,” declared Mrs. Blight. “Go now for your clothes, and be back to luncheon. I want to introduce you to the children, who are running wild.”
She waved her hand, and Lally, with her five pounds in her hand, took her departure. She had found a new home, and one not likely to be pleasant, but it would afford her shelter, and she believed she could bear all things rather than to pass again through the poverty and misery she had known. She little knew that it was the hand of Providence that had brought her to Sandy Lands, and that the acceptance of her present situation was destined to change the entire future current of her existence, and even to affect that of her young husband.
CHAPTER XXV.
LALLY IN HER NEW SITUATION.
Lally returned to Canterbury in the cab that had brought her out to Sandy Lands, Mrs. Blight’s pert little villa in the suburbs, and entered upon the task of procuring a neat although necessarily scanty wardrobe. She bought a cheap box, which she had sent to her lodgings. A lady’s furnishing house yielded her a change of under garments, another print dress, and a gown of black alpaca, and a supply of collars and cuffs; her entire purchases amounting to three pounds ten shillings. She carried her effects to her attic lodgings, the rent of which she had paid in advance, packed her box, and set out again in the cab for Sandy Lands.
It was noon when the vehicle stopped again before the little villa. The cabman rang the garden bell as before, and when the housemaid appeared he dumped down Lally’s box upon the gravelled walk, received his pay, and departed. The smart housemaid was as contemptuous as before of Lally’s humble garments, but spoke to her familiarly, as if the two were upon a social level, and conducted her toward the rear porch, saying:
“Missus said you was to be shown up to your room, Miss, to make your twilet before seeing the children. If you please,” added the girl, with increasing familiarity, “you and I are to see a good deal of each other, and so I want to know what to call you.”
Whatever the social rank of Lally’s parents, Lally herself was a lady by instinct and education. The housemaid’s easy patronage was offensive to her. She answered quietly:
“You may call me Miss Bird.”
“Oh,” said the housemaid, with a sniff and a toss of her head. “That’s the talk, is it? Well, then, Miss Bird, follow me up to your room. This way, Miss Bird. Up these stairs, Miss Bird.”
Lally followed her guide up the stairs to the third and topmost story, and to a rear room.