Mrs. Grainger hastened from the kitchen. She had the sleeves of her washed-out lilac cotton dress rolled up above her arms, and an enormous apron, once white, now mottled and piebald with innumerable marks and stains.
"Will you sit down a moment?" Crawford said, pointing to a chair. He walked up and down the room during the interview.
Mrs. Grainger sat down and threw her apron over to her left side, by way of qualifying herself for the honour of a seat in Mr. Crawford's room and in Mr. Crawford's presence.
"Miss Layard told me last evening some interesting facts you mentioned to her about a--gentleman who lives on this island here in the canal."
"Yes, sir. A Mr. Bramwell, who lives all alone on Boland's Ait."
"Exactly. Do you know anything about him? The case is so remarkable, I am interested in it merely out of curiosity."
"I know, sir; and he is a curiosity, certainly," said Mrs. Grainger, settling herself firmly on her chair, and arranging her mind as well as her body for a good long chat, for every minute devoted to which she would be receiving her pay.
Crawford caught the import of her gesture and said sharply:
"I do not wish to keep you long, Mrs. Grainger; I have only a few questions to ask, and then you may leave me."
"Yes, sir," said the charwoman, instantly sitting upright and on her dignity.