“Oh, yes; I am quite strong to-day, and have been thinking I must go away soon.”
“What for? Aren’t you comfortable?” and the old lady spoke more sharply than usual.
“Yes, indeed; too comfortable, I’m afraid. But, then, I am depending on strangers, and I ought to be looking out for myself,” Brownie said, her cheeks crimsoning with embarrassment.
“Ahem! you’d like me to think you are one of the industrious kind, wouldn’t you?” the old woman said, grimly.
Evidently she did not like anything which seemed like self-praise.
“Oh, no,” Brownie answered, with a mischievous smile; “I assure you I do not love drudgery a bit better than other people; but when one has not a penny excepting what one earns, it is necessary to bestir one’s self.”
“Well, if you want to work, and can walk a few steps, come with me. I’ll take you at your word, and set you a task right away,” said the old creature.
Much amused, and wondering what was coming next, Brownie arose with alacrity, for she had grown weary of being shut up in one room, and longed for a change.
The old woman led the way half across the room, then stopping short and turning suddenly around, she said:
“Perhaps you’d like to know who I am, since I’ve managed to find out so much about you and your affairs. I’m Lady Ruxley, and I’m aunt to Lady Randal, in whose house you are. She’s a hard-hearted creature—Helen is, but she can’t come it over me; no, no, not until I lose more of my wits than I have yet,” she concluded, with a triumphant chuckle.