"I am Penelope Grant," she answered, "servant to Douw Fonda of Caughnawaga; and I came last night with Mr. Drogue."
The perfect candour of her words should have clothed them with innocence. And, I think, did so. Yet, Claudia shot a wicked look at me, which did not please me.
But I ignored her and explained the situation briefly to Lady Johnson, who had turned to stare at Penelope, who stood there quite self-possessed in her shabby dress of gingham.
There was a silence; then Claudia asked the girl if she would take service with her; and Penelope shook her head.
"I pay handsomely, and I need a clever wench to care for me," insisted Claudia; "and by your fine, white hands I see you are well accustomed to ladies' needs. Are you not, Penelope?"
"I am servant to Douw Fonda," repeated the girl. "It would not be kind in me to leave him who offers to adopt me. Nor is it decent to abandon him in times like these."
Lady Johnson came forward slowly, her tear-marred eyes clearing.
"My brother, Stephen, has spoken of you. I understood him to say that you are the daughter of a Scottish minister. Is this true?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Then you are no servant wench."