“Thomasine gone!”
“Gone in a tantrum, her cheeks as red as her head. I can’t think what folks find to admire in her hair. It is thick and red. I don’t fancy carrots.”
“But whither is she gone? She is a stranger in London, and has no friends.”
“I don’t suppose, miss, she knows herself.”
“Has she gone back to Mrs. Saltren?”
“I don’t fancy so. She was in such a rage, she thought of nothing but going, and never even asked for her wage.”
“Do you know in which direction she went?”
“No, I was not on the look-out. She came flaring on me to give me good-bye, and away she went. She said that as the missus had insulted her, go she would to where she would be valued.”
“Have you no idea where she is gone?”
“I don’t know.” The girl hesitated, then said, “Thomasine said as how there was a gentleman at the hotel where Mrs. Saltren first was, who admired her and said she ought never to demean herself to go into service—I can’t say, she has spoken of him once or twice, and I fancy he came to look for her when she was at the lodgings with Mrs. Saltren—she may have gone to ask his advice what to do and where to go.”