He was beginning to feel a good deal of interest in No. 1, who, with a dozen fresh towels on her arm, was going towards corridor No. 2.
“What are you doing? The racks are full of towels,” a chambermaid said to her.
“Obeying Mrs. Groves’ orders,” was Sherry’s reply, as she went on and knocked at the first door in the corridor.
It chanced to belong to Amy Marsh, who, thinking it one of her friends, called out familiarly, “Entrez, if you can get in.”
The tone of her voice changed very materially when she saw who it was.
“Oh,” she said, “I thought Martha was the maid on this floor.”
“She is, but Mrs. Groves sent me,” Sherry answered, laying a part of her towels on the already well-filled rack.
“Yes; well, now you are here, I wish you would put up some of my things, which I have scattered everywhere in unpacking my trunk to get my dress for dinner,” Amy said.
“When I have disposed of these I will help you,” Sherry replied, leaving the room, while Amy looked after her curiously.
The girl’s personality was beginning to impress her. “I wonder who she is,” she thought. “Not an ordinary, sure; but some saleslady, I dare say, or teacher. They usually carry their chins in the air, and hers is very high. No matter, I mean to make her useful.”