"It's all right," repeated Janet, not heeding this remark. She walked through the hall as she spoke, opened the door herself, and let herself out.
She was neatly dressed in pale gray alpaca; her little sailor hat, with a plain band of white ribbon round it, looked neat and girlish; she carried a thin dust cloak on her arm.
No one could look nicer or sweeter than Janet. She had a sort of good heroine air about her, and this fact struck Lady Kathleen Peterham most forcibly when about eight o'clock that morning the young lady was admitted into her bedroom.
Lady Kathleen was not an early riser.
She was, indeed, sound asleep when her maid brought her a little note on a silver salver. The note contained a few piteous lines from Janet.
I am in great trouble and perplexity [she wrote]; will you see me for one minute?
"The little dear, of course I'll see her," said Lady Kathleen. She had herself arrayed in a rose-colored silk dressing gown, and was sitting up in the shaded light when Janet tripped into the room.
"Oh, how kind of you to let me come," said the girl.
"My love," said Lady Kathleen, "I was expecting you between ten and eleven. I have not broken the news of our charming arrangement yet to Biddy; I know well how delighted she'll be when I do tell her. Why have you come so early, little Mayflower, and what is all this trouble about? You look very nice, my love, notwithstanding your perplexities."