“I hope you have not set Bell in authority over her,” exclaimed Mr. Fausset hastily.
“There must be some one to maintain order when Miss Colville is away.”
“That some one should be you or I, not Bell.”
“Bell is a conscientious person, and she would make no improper use of authority.”
“She is a very disagreeable person. That is all I know about her,” retorted Mr. Fausset, as he left the room.
He was dissatisfied with Fay’s position in the house, yet hardly knew how to complain or what alteration to suggest. There were no positive wrongs to resent. Fay shared Mildred’s studies and amusements; they had their meals together, and took their airings together.
When Mildred went down to the morning-room or the drawing-room Fay generally went with her—generally, not always. There were times when Bell looked in at the schoolroom-door and beckoned Mildred. “Mamma wants you alone,” she would whisper on the threshold; and Mildred ran off to be petted and paraded before some privileged visitor.
There were differences which Fay felt keenly, and inwardly resented. She was allowed to sit aloof when the drawing-room was full of fine ladies, upon Mrs. Fausset’s afternoon; while Mildred was brought into notice and talked about, her little graces exhibited and expatiated upon, or her childish tastes conciliated. Fay would sit looking at one of the art-books piled upon a side-table, or turning over photographs and prints in a portfolio. She never talked unless spoken to, or did anything to put herself forward.
Sometimes an officious visitor would notice her.
“What a clever-looking girl! Who is she?” asked a prosperous dowager, whose own daughters were all planted out in life, happy wives and mothers, and who could afford to interest herself in stray members of the human race.