"Can I go to the parlour in the mean time, till my room is ready?—if it is not ready."
"It aint ready. I never heerd you was comin', till last night. How was I to have the room ready? and I don' know which room it's to be."
"Then can I go to the parlour? where is it?"
"It's all the next floor. There's nothin' but parlours. You can go there if you like; but they aint been opened in a year. I never was in 'em but once or twice since I lived here."
Rotha was in despair. She set her bag on one chair and placed herself on another, and waited. This was far worse even than her fears. O if she had but a little money, to buy this woman's civility! perhaps it could be bought. But she was thrown from one dependence to another; and now she was come to depend on this common person. She did not know what more to say; she could not do anything to propitiate her. She waited.
"Have you had any breakfast?" said Mrs. Purcell, after some ten minutes had passed with no sound but that of her cups and plates taken up and set down. This went on briskly; Mrs. Purcell seemed to be an energetic worker.
"Yes, thank you. I took breakfast at the hotel in Tanfield."
"I didn't know but I had to cook breakfast all over again."
"I will not give you any more trouble than I can help—if you will only give me a room by and by."
"There's nothin' fur I to give—you can pick and choose in the whole house. Us has only these rooms down here; there's the whole big barn of a house overhead. Folks meant it to be a grand house, I s'pose; it's big enough; but I don't want no more of it than I can take care of."