“You haven’t no mother, nor sister, nor a’nt, nor nothin’, but Mr. Raymond and Dinah,” said Ben, after they had talked awhile. “Ain’t there no white women in the house but you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Huntington and Isabel. She’s my governess,” answered Alice; and, conscious of a pang, Ben continued:
“Mr. Raymond sent for ’em, I s’pose?”
“No,” returned Alice. “They came without sending for—came to visit, and he hired them to stay. Mrs. Huntington keeps house.”
At this point in the conversation there was a rustling of garments in the hall, and a splendid, queenly creature swept into the room, bringing with her such an air of superiority that Ben involuntarily hitched nearer to the wall, as if to get out of sight.
“Je-ru-sa-lem! ain’t she a dasher?” was his mental exclamation; and, in spite of himself, he followed her movements with an admiring glance.
Taking a chair, she drew it to the fire, and, without deigning to notice the stranger, she said, rather reprovingly,
“Alice, come here.”
The child obeyed, and Ben, determined not to be ignored entirely, said:
“Pretty well this evenin’, miss?”