"Miss Bessie is above doing anything of the sort."
"If it is not Miss Bessie, who is it, ma'am?"
There was a tone of indecision in her voice.
"My good Jane," said I, "set your mind at rest. Miss Bessie could not act as you suppose. Have you seen her on these occasions and assured yourself that it is she?"
"No, ma'am, I've not, so to speak, seen her face; but I know it ain't cook, and I'm sure it ain't you, ma'am; so who else can it be?"
I considered for some moments, and the maid stood before me in dubious mood.
"You say you saw her skirts. Did you recognise the gown? What did she wear?"
"It was a light cotton print—more like a maid's morning dress."
"Well, set your mind at ease; Miss Bessie has not got such a frock as you describe."
"I don't think she has," said Jane; "but there was someone at the door, watching me, who ran away when I turned myself about."