"Amelia—Amelia Lanteglos!" I said.
She turned sharply.
"No, Maaster Benet," she said, "you mustn't go wi' me. I shell screech murder ef you do." I knew by her voice that she both feared and hated Benet Killigrew.
"I am not Benet," I said. "I am a friend."
"You—you are the straanger?" she stammered.
"Yes," I said; "yet not such a stranger as you think."
In a few minutes I had won the girl's confidence. There are several ways of making a serving-maid pliable. One is to appeal for her help, another to make love to her, another to bribe her, another to flatter her. I did the last. I told her I had heard what a faithful servant she was, how much she was trusted in the house, and what a fine-looking maid she was. This had to be done by degrees.
"You have a very responsible position, Amelia," I said at length; "and it is well for your mistress that you love her. She needs your love, too. What she would do without you, I do not know."
"No, nor I," said the girl.
"Your mistress needs friends, Amelia."