A curious name, no doubt, but it was hers. Fanny Jelly. When Mrs. Cumberland had engaged her as upper maid, she decided to call her by the latter name, Fanny being her own.
Jelly entered without ceremony--she was not given to observing much at the best of times. She had come to say that he need not provide anything for dinner; her mistress meant to send him in a fowl--if he would accept it.
"With pleasure, tell her," said Dr. Rane. "How is my mother this morning, Jelly?"
"She has had a good night, and is pretty tolerable," replied Jelly, giving a backward fling to her flying cap-strings. "The foreign letters have come in; two for her, one for Miss Adair."
Dr. Rane, not particularly interested in the said foreign letters, went on with his breakfast. Jelly, with characteristic composure, stood at ease just inside the window watching the process.
"That ham is dried up to fiddle-strings," she suddenly said.
"Yes. Phillis has done it too much."
"And I should like to have the doing of her!" spoke Jelly in wrathful tones. "It is a sin to spoil good food."
"So it is," said Dr. Rane.
"So that poor young man's gone!" she resumed, as he cracked an egg.