Mrs Hilchester dropped her large cutting-out scissors, and turned and faced her visitor.
“I am sorry,” she said abruptly; “I thought you were Mildred Jones; she promised to look in and do what she could. I have a heavy pile to get through before nightfall. As you are here, do you mind holding this unbleached calico while I divide it into yards?”
“Really,”—began Miss Fleet.
But indignant looks and even words were absolutely thrown away on the busy Rector’s wife.
“Catch,” she said, “and hold tight. If you have anything to say, you can say it while we are busy. No one who ever comes to the Rectory is allowed to waste time or to be idle. Thank you very much.”
It was impossible for Miss Fleet not to hold the unbleached calico, and it was difficult for her to be quite as indignant and as dignified as she had intended to be in such a position.
“Why, really, this is most extraordinary,” she said.
“Oh! pray, don’t let go, or I shall have all my trouble over again.”
Miss Fleet held tight to the calico, which got heavier and heavier as more and more yards were measured off.
“Now, for goodness’ sake lay it gently on the table. Thanks; that is a help. Now, my good friend, what is your business? If I can help you I shall be pleased to do so; at present I don’t even know your name.”