Connie looked puzzled. There certainly was a great attraction at the thought of going into the country. She hated the machine-work. But, all the same, somehow or other she did not like Mrs. Warren.
"I'll think o' it and let yer know," she said.
But when she uttered these words the stately dressed and over-fine lady changed her manner.
"There's no thinking now," she said. "You're 'ere, and yer'll stay. You go out arter you ha' been at my house? You refuse my goodness? Not a bit o' it! Yer'll stay."
"Oh, yes, Connie," said Agnes in a soothing tone.
"But I don't want to stay," said Connie, now thoroughly frightened. "I want to go—and to go at once. Let me go, ma'am; I—I don't like yer!"
Poor Connie made a rush for the door, but Agnes flew after her and clasped her round the waist.
"Yer be a silly!" she said. "Yer jest stay with her for one week."
"But I—I must go and tell father," said poor Connie.
"You needn't—I'll go an' tell him. Don't yer get into such a fright. Don't, for goodness' sake! Why, think of five shillin's a week, and jaunts into the country, and beautiful food, and poetry read aloud to yer, and hall the rest!"