“Where are you going, Mrs. Hardwick?” asked the cooper's wife.
“To a hotel,” was the reply.
“We cannot allow that,” said Mrs. Crump, kindly. “It is a pity if we cannot accommodate Ida's old nurse for one night, or ten times as long, for that matter.”
“My wife is quite right,” said the cooper; “we must insist upon your stopping with us.”
The nurse hesitated, and looked irresolute. It was plain she would have preferred to be elsewhere, but a remark which Mrs. Crump made, decided her to accept the invitation.
It was this. “You know, Mrs. Hardwick, if Ida is to go with you, she ought to have a little chance to get acquainted with you before you go.”
“I will accept your kind invitation,” she said; “but I am afraid I shall be in your way.”
“Not in the least. It will be a pleasure to us to have you here. If you will excuse me now, I will go out and attend to my dinner, which I am afraid is getting behindhand.”
Left to herself, the nurse behaved in a manner which might be regarded as singular. She rose from her seat, and approached the mirror. She took a full survey of herself as she stood there, and laughed a short, hard laugh.
Then she made a formal courtesy to her own reflection, saying, “How do you do, Mrs. Hardwick?”