This was a very unpromising beginning, and nurse would not allow that the children should go downstairs in the evening to hear Mary play, and to sing their little songs about the piano.
“When their mamma is here she can do as she pleases—but I don’t hold with such things,” said the nurse.
Mary was all the more lonely in consequence in the twilight hour, which she was used to employ in amusing the children, and when she went downstairs later to see whether it was the design of the authorities downstairs to give her any dinner, she found Saunders in the dining-room with his elbows on the table and a bottle of wine before him reading the paper. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, and by instinct started up, but recollecting himself fell back in his chair and confronted her.
“I consider,” said Saunders, “as this room is not in the ladies part of the ’ouse—but was you wanting anything, Miss ’Ill?”
“You surprise me very much, Saunders,” said Mary, with a little quickening of the breath.
“Mister Saunders, if you please—I don’t think would be out o’ place, miss. I am the head man when master is away.”
“I think you are very much out of place where you are, Saunders—and that Mr. Parke would not be at all pleased——”
“If he knew,” said Saunders. “I don’t say as ’e would. I’m a consulting of my own convenience, not thinking of him; and he’ll never know.”
“How can you tell that? It will be my duty to tell him at once.”
“It’s a duty as you’ll never do. We know you well, all of us, in this ’ouse. And if you’re sensible you’ll take my advice. You’ll be seen to, and kept comfortable, if you don’t give no trouble. Cook is a-sending you up a bit of dinner. You’ll be waited on as good, or better, as you were ever used to—but, Lord bless you, what’s the good of pretending. You was never used to a man like me waiting upon you—and why should you now? John, he says the same thing. We’re very hard worked when they’re at ’ome, and we’re going to have a ’oliday. It won’t make no difference what you say.”