"Yes, your ladyship—all I've told you."
"Where is he? I should like to see him."
Mrs. Brand's daughter, all this time hushing her baby, started up.
"I'll fetch him. He's up-stairs in Legard's, I know."
She left the room and ran up-stairs. The painter, Legard, still was touching up Miss Jenkins, and the bright-haired boy stood watching the progress of that work of art.
"Guy! Guy!" she cried breathlessly, "come down-stairs at once. You're wanted."
"Who wants me, Ellen?"
"A lady, dressed in the most elegant and expensive mourning—a real lady, Guy; and she has come about that advertisement, and she wants to see you."
"What is she like, Mrs. Darking?" inquired the painter—"young or old?"
"Young, I should think; but she hides her face behind a thick veil, as if she didn't want to be known. Come, Guy."