In a small tin box, which fastened with a spring, they found several business-like documents, some yellow with age, some fresher-looking, and among them the papers relating to Gertie’s “forty pounds.” These Norah kept to give to Colonel Schuyler; then carelessly glancing at a few of the others, and finding them mostly receipts and papers relating to the bank, now good for nothing, she proposed to Gertie that they burn them. But Gertie said, “No, I may want to look at them some time;” so they were again placed back in the box, which was put away in Gertie’s trunk and the house was set to rights, and the room which Robert Macpherson still kept for his studio when he was in Hampstead was left just as it was, with “La Sœur” removed to its old place on the easel, and at the close of the third day Norah locked the doors, and, with Gertie, passed out into the street, leaving tenantless the cottage for which Godfrey had never taken rent since Mrs. Rogers occupied it.
CHAPTER XXXV.
GERTIE AT THE HILL.
It was known now, from Mrs. Tiffe, the housekeeper, down to Jennie, the scullion, that Gertie Westbrooke was to be an inmate of the household, but no one seemed to care particularly, unless it were Kitty, the laundress, who groaned over the extra washing, but consoled herself that the girl would not probably “wear as many frillicks and puffs as the young ladies did.”
With regard in her exact position in the family the servants were at first in doubt, but guessed she was to be either second waiting-maid to their mistress or nurse to the baby, but of this opinion Edith, who overheard their conjectures, disabused them at once.
“Miss Westbrooke is not coming here as waitress or nurse,” she said. “She comes as a young lady of the house, and as such you will treat her with deference and respect.”
The servants glanced curiously at each other, and John, the table-waiter, said he knew now why Miss Julia looked so black at lunch, and whisked so spitefully out of the room.
Julia was furious, and when alone with her father spoke her mind freely to him, asking first if it were true, that Mrs. Schuyler had adopted Gertie Rogers, and was to bring her there to live.
“Not adopted; no, certainly not adopted her,” the colonel said, apologetically, for there was something in his daughter’s black eyes which made him wince a little. “That woman was anxious about her child’s future, and Mrs. Schuyler,—or, rather, we promised to give her a home and an education, but there was no talk of adoption. No, certainly not.”
He was careful to spare Edith as much as possible, and generously said we,—but Julia was not deceived, and answered, indignantly: