Mrs Shepton considered. She felt quite a motherly interest in Phillis Ray.
“You will be busy for some time arranging all your lady’s things,” she said. “I will send up to fetch you in time for supper; it would be pleasanter for you than coming down to the room by yourself.”
“The room?” Philippa repeated, in some perplexity.
“Our room, of course, I mean,” said the housekeeper, smiling. “Supper is at half-past nine. Our second-housemaid is a very nice girl, rather young, perhaps, for the post, but a superior girl in many ways. Her name is Bell—Isabella Bell, a curious first name to choose, isn’t it? The head-housemaid is quite an elderly woman, who has been here for many years. My ladies think very highly of her, and,”—with the slightest touch of hesitation—“she expects to be treated very respectfully by the younger ones.”
Philippa laughed slightly.
“Thank you for warning me, Mrs Shepton,” she said.
As she spoke she was already taking off her bonnet and cloak, and again the housekeeper felt approval of her evident alertness.
“I will leave you now,” she said; “you will need all your time to get things ready,” and so saying, she went away.
As soon as she had the room to herself, Philippa sat down on the little bed with a deep sigh of relief.
“How nice it is to be myself again, even for a moment,” she thought. “How shall I ever be able to endure the not being it for a whole week or more? But how thankful I am that the housekeeper is such a nice, good woman; how very thankful! At the worst, at the very worst, if any really terrible complications arise, I almost think I might confide in her; I am sure she has nice feelings in every way.”