Nov. 12.—This morning I woke early, and came into the front room to get a book, meaning to read in bed till it was time to get up. Emily was laying the fire.
"Good morning!" I said cheerfully. "Mind you make a good fire. It's very cold."
The girl turned and showed me a startled face. It was not Emily at all!
"Where's Emily?" I exclaimed.
"You mean the girl as was 'ere before me?"
"Has Emily left?"
"I came on the 6th," she replied sullenly, "and she'd gone then." I got my book and went back to bed. Emily must have been sent away almost immediately after our conversation. This reflection
kept coming between me and the printed page. I was glad when it was time to get up. Such prompt energy, such merciless decision, seemed to argue something of importance—to somebody.