"And she pays you for taking care of it."
"Who told you she does?"
"Nobody told me; but I supposed it, of course."
"She don't pay nothin'. Us pays her; that's how it is. Us pays her, for all us has; the land and the house and all."
"I am Mrs. Busby's niece. Did she send you any word about me?"
"Sent Joseph word—" said the woman mutteringly. "He said as some one was comin'. I suppose it's you. I mean, Mr. Purcell."
"Then you expected me. Did Mrs. Busby tell you what you were to do with me?"
"I didn't read the letter," said the woman, turning now from her examination of Rotha to take up her work, which had been washing up her breakfast dishes. "Joseph didn't tell me nothin'."
"I suppose you know where to put me," said Rotha, getting a little out of patience. "I shall want a room. Where is it to be?"
"I don' know," said Mrs. Purcell, whose fingers were flying among her pots and dishes in a way that shewed laziness was no part of her character. "There aint no room but at the top o' the house. Joseph and me has the only room that's down stairs. I s'pose you wouldn't like one o' the parlours. The rest is all at the top."