"Miss Delves has sent some jam for the young lady, if she'd like it. Or will she take a slice of cold meat first, she says?"
"I'll have the jam, please."
"That's right, Miss," laughed Jemima. "Sweets is good."
"Arn't you coming to your tea, Jemima? There'll be a fuss if she comes in and finds you have not begun it."
"Bother the tea! We are not obliged to swallow it down just at the minute she pleases," was the answer of Jemima.
"I say," exclaimed the other suddenly, "what do you think I saw? Young King——"
Jemima gave a warning shake of the head, and pointed to me. The conversation was dropped to a whisper, in which I once caught the words "that handsome George Heneage." Presently steps were heard approaching, and the two maids disturbed themselves. Sarah caught up the plate of bread and butter, and stood as if she were handing it to me, and Jemima stirred the fire vigorously. It had been warm in the day, but the bit of lighted fire in the grate looked pleasant in the autumn evening. The footsteps passed on.
"How stupid you are, Sarah! startling one for nothing!" exclaimed Jemima.
"I thought it was Charlotte Delves. It sounded just like her foot."
"She's in the kitchen, and won't come out of it till the dinner's gone in. She's in one of her tempers to-day."