"Polly gives me advice," she murmured. "Hook it! Hook George, and pour out rivers of tea, and put on his slippers in respectable humility. No, thankye, Poll! I won't hook it. I'll fish for something better, else, when Miss Sophy dies, I must find another job, and go on jobbing it," she whispered, looking into the glass, "until I don't look anything like so saucy as I'm doing now."
"Nellie, where be to?" called the equally saucy parrot.
"Here she be!" answered the girl from the window. "Her's going to write to the bad somebody, and her's going to meet him, and her's going to be a soft dafty little vule and believe his nonsense."
While she spoke a rumbling of wheels heralded the approach of the incident, which had already occurred with disastrous results along the more important reaches of the street. Nellie remained at the open window out of curiosity until the incident, which was of no importance to her at the moment, became revealed in the form of a young and pretty girl, gazing about in a highly interested fashion as she swept past in an open wagonette; a beautifully dressed young lady, certainly no more than eighteen, who looked quite capable of travelling round the world without an escort.
"Whoever can she be?" Nellie murmured, as she went towards her own room, to get that letter written before she changed her mind again.
She could hear voices buzzing in the kitchen, where Kezia and Bessie were discussing the incident; presently she opened the door and listened, for the air was thrilling with unpleasant sounds of proper nouns and most improper adjectives; finally she went downstairs and presented herself at the kitchen door.
"Oh, Miss Nellie!" cried Kezia. "Did you see the person driving past?"
"I did see her," replied Nellie. "Who is she?"
"Ah, that's what every one's asking. I shouldn't like to say who she be. See how bold she stared as she drove along!" said Bessie.
"She warn't so bold looking as that other one," remarked Kezia.