"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee.
Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said:
"Call him what you like, Amelia. It's only the Miss Mees who're so particular."
"Dear gentleman," continued Amelia. "Next to being always with you, miss, I should like to have been with 'im."
"I'm afraid you can't even be with me. I have to earn my own living."
"Yes, miss; but when you marry a rich gentleman, I should like to come with you as 'general.'"
"Don't talk nonsense, Amelia."
"But it ain't, miss; didn't the music master, 'im with the lovely, long, shiny 'air, promise me a shillin' to give you a note?"
"Did he?" laughed Mavis. "It's nearly eight: you'd better take in the breakfast things."
"Oh, well, if I can't be here, or with you, I'd sooner be with that dear Mr—"