“In-deed,” said the sharp Nancy.
“Good night,” said her ladyship, and turned sleepily towards the door; for, truth to tell, her ladyship had never even dreamed of such journeying as she had performed that luckless day. “Good night,” and she had her hand upon the latch.
The stout Plunket stared. “Good night—why there’s work to do!”
“Wo-o-o-ork,” said Henrietta. And Nancy too, shrieked out the little word.
“Of course—take my hat,” said Plunket.
Nancy took the hat immediately, but she privately shot it into a corner. Lionel also held out his hat to Henrietta, but he seemed to do so rather because it brought him near her, than as the act of her legal master for twelve months, less one day. Henrietta took it, and knowing no more what to do with it than she had known what to do with the fast binding shilling, dropped it. But Lionel did not mark that fall—his eyes were on the new servant’s handsome face. Indeed, he was in love with her, I think.
“Work—work—work,” said Plunket.
“But I’m shivering with cold!”
“And so am I,” said Nancy.
“Brother,” said Lionel, “brother, she’s shivering with cold, you know.”