“Well—it mid be. The man has got on a blue coat and kerseymere leggings; he has black whiskers, and a reddish face. ’Tis a stuffed figure, with a falseface.”
The din was increasing now—then it lessened a little.
“There—I shan’t see, after all!” cried the disappointed first maid.
“They have gone into a back street—that’s all,” said the one who occupied the enviable position in the attic. “There—now I have got ’em all endways nicely!”
“What’s the woman like? Just say, and I can tell in a moment if ’tis meant for one I’ve in mind.”
“My—why—’tis dressed just as she was dressed when she sat in the front seat at the time the play-actors came to the Town Hall!”
Lucetta started to her feet, and almost at the instant the door of the room was quickly and softly opened. Elizabeth-Jane advanced into the firelight.
“I have come to see you,” she said breathlessly. “I did not stop to knock—forgive me! I see you have not shut your shutters, and the window is open.”
Without waiting for Lucetta’s reply she crossed quickly to the window and pulled out one of the shutters. Lucetta glided to her side. “Let it be—hush!” she said peremptorily, in a dry voice, while she seized Elizabeth-Jane by the hand, and held up her finger. Their intercourse had been so low and hurried that not a word had been lost of the conversation without, which had thus proceeded:—
“Her neck is uncovered, and her hair in bands, and her back-comb in place; she’s got on a puce silk, and white stockings, and coloured shoes.”