"If you please, Mum." The parlour maid stood there, gaunt and prim.
"It's Mr. McTaggart asking to see you."
"Shut that door!—Now, what do you mean, Maria? You know I'm engaged. Tell him I'm out."
But the elderly servant stood her ground. "He's in the drawing-room, if you please, Mum. I told him you was h'occupied—but he said he could wait." She cast an openly inquisitive glance at her mistress' dress. The new Autumn gown was an "event" in that quiet household.
"Indeed." Aunt Elizabeth's voice was acid. "Well, he can wait, then! You'd no business, Maria, to let him in at all. You take too much on yourself."
"I'm sorry, Mum. But the card in the hall said 'h'In,' not 'h'Out,' so 'ow was I to tell?" She tossed her head with an air of injured innocence.
"That will do." Miss Uniacke's eyes had wandered back to the mirror, irresistibly attracted.
It certainly was smart ... The colour suited her.
"Perhaps I'd better go and get it over," she said. "If these pins will hold?" She addressed the kneeling figure.
"I'll make sure, Meddam." Mrs. Crouch smiled. She came to work "by the day" and was not at all averse to a spell of idleness reaped from the occasion.