‘Well, Tottie Freeman isn’t exactly a peasant,’ explained Ernest mildly. ‘We haven’t any of the breed here. She is a farmer’s daughter, and her proud sire has or had an acreage that would make him a great man at fair and market in England. You will find her a good-tempered, honest girl, not afraid of work, as we say here, and as she is your only possible attendant, you must make the best of her.’
‘Is she to join us at table?’ inquired Miss Neuchamp, with the same fixed air of indifference. ‘Of course I only ask for information.’
‘She will fare as we do, but will take her refection after we have completed ours. She cannot very well be sent to the kitchen.’
‘Why not?’ demanded Miss Augusta.
‘For reasons which will be apparent to you, my dear Augusta, after your longer stay in Australia. But principally because there are only men there at present, and our old cook is not a suitable companion for a young girl.’
‘Very peculiar household arrangements,’ said Miss Neuchamp, ‘but I suppose I shall comprehend in time.’
[CHAPTER XXV]
Having communicated this sentiment in a tone which did not conduce to the lighter graces of conversation, Miss Neuchamp resumed her reading. Silence, the ominous oppressive silence of those who do not wish to speak, reigned unbroken for a while.
At length, lifting her head as if the thought had suddenly struck her, she said, ‘I cannot think why you did not buy a station nearer to town, where you might have lived in a comparatively civilised way.’