"She told you, I suppose, that Providence would look after the servant question."
"She did, just that."
"Well, Providence is hardly equal to getting enough servants to run that place, so I'm going to assist Providence a little."
"You become the vicaress of Providence? I admire your spirit."
"It's mere self-preservation. Aunt Octavia would have me chained to the kitchen if I did n't do something about it."
She had permitted me to settle with the conductor, and when I had completed this transaction I found that she had drawn from her purse the little silver booklet about which Miss Octavia had inquired so anxiously. She held this close to her eyes, so that I had a clear view of the silver backs, on one of which "C.H." was engraved in neat script. The subjoined pencil she held poised ready for use, touching the tip of it absent-mindedly to her tongue. She raised her eyes with the far-away look still in them.
"Can you tell me how to spell Arrowood,—is it one or two w's?"
"One, I think the noble lord uses."
She seemed to write the name, and I saw her counting on her fingers, touching them lightly on the open page of the book.
Then she dropped it into her purse, which she thrust back carefully into her pocket. She sighed, and was silent for a moment. We were passing a series of huge signs built like a barricade along the right of way, and on one of these I observed with fresh interest an advertisement whose counterpart I had seen often about New York, but without ever observing it attentively. It drew a laugh from me now. It represented an infant in a perambulator, behind which stood the effigy of a capped and aproned nurse. A legend was inscribed on the board to this effect:—