And she would have liked to dash the tray on the floor at the foot of the stairs, and to leave the startled inhabitants to their own courses.
This, of course, was but an emotion. The old woman completed her long march cautiously, and knocked at the Vrau’s door.
“Come in, dear,” said the inmate, and Mildred Tarnley, with her tray in her hands, marched into the room, and looked round peevishly for a table to set it down on.
“You’ll find all you said, ’m,” said old Tarnley. “Shall I set it before you, or will you move this way, please ’m?”
“Before me, dear.”
So Mildred carried the table and supper over, and placed it before the lady, who sat up and said—
“Good Mildred, how good you are; give me now the knife and fork, in my fingers, and put some salt just there. Very good. How good of you to take so much trouble for poor me, you kind old Mildred?”
How wondrous sweet she had grown in a minute. The old servant, who knew her, was not conciliated, but disgusted, and looked hard at the benevolent lady, wondering what could be in her mind.
“If everything’s right, I’ll wish you good night, ’m, and I’ll go down to my bed, ma’am, please.”
“Wait a while with me. Do, there’s a good soul. I’ll not detain you long, you dear old lass.”