“Mrs. Norton!” exclaimed the woman; “I don't know any sich parson as that, Miss.”
“Why,” said Lucy, putting her head out of the chaise, and re-examining the cottage, “surely this is where my friend Mrs. Norton did live, certainly. She must have changed her residence, Alley. This is most unfortunate!—What are we to do? I know not where to go.”
“Whisht! Miss,” said Alley, “we'll put her through her catechiz again. Come here, my good woman; come forrid; don't be ashamed or afeard in the presence of ladies. Who does live here?”
“Mr. Mainwarin',” replied the servant, omitting the “Miss,” notwithstanding that Alley had put in her claim for it by using the plural number.
“This is distressing—most unfortunate!” exclaimed Lucy; “how long has this gentleman—Mr.—Mr.———”
“Mainwarin', Miss,” added the woman, respectfully.
“She's a stupid lookin' sthreel, at all events,” said Alley, half to herself and half to her mistress.
“Yes, Mainwaring,” continued Lucy; “how long has he been living here?”
“Troth, and that's more than I can tell you, Miss,” replied the woman; “I'm from the county Wexford myself, and isn't more than a month here.”
Whilst this little dialogue went on, or rather, we should say, after it was concluded, a tapping was heard at one of the windows, and a signal given with the finger for the servant to return to the house. She did so; but soon presented herself a second time at the chaise door with more agreeable intelligence.