The first thing to be done—and that instantly—was to inform Blanche that she was discovered, and to forbid her to stir in the matter.
Lady Lundie rang the bell twice—thus intimating, according to the laws of the household, that she required the attendance of her own maid. She then turned to the cook—still waiting her pleasure, with stony composure, slate in hand.
“You have done wrong,” said her ladyship, severely. “I am your mistress. You are bound to answer your mistress—”
Hester Dethridge bowed her head, in icy acknowledgment of the principle laid down—so far.
The bow was an interruption. Lady Lundie resented it.
“But Miss Blanche is not your mistress,” she went on, sternly. “You are very much to blame for answering Miss Blanche’s inquiries about Miss Silvester.”
Hester Dethridge, perfectly unmoved, wrote her justification on her slate, in two stiff sentences: “I had no orders not to answer. I keep nobody’s secrets but my own.”
That reply settled the question of the cook’s dismissal—the question which had been pending for months past.
“You are an insolent woman! I have borne with you long enough—I will bear with you no longer. When your month is up, you go!”
In those words Lady Lundie dismissed Hester Dethridge from her service.