found claws where a moment ago only soft fur was. This, and a good deal more, he felt in the brief moment before he said:
"Very well. And now forgive me—in earnest, like a good comrade, and let's be friends again,"
"That's what I want to be to you," said Jane, charmed by the old camouflage that love has worn so threadbare.
"Then shake hands on it."
They did—a good, strong, manly shake.
"And now we're real friends, tell me just one thing. You do like me better than that wretched Dix, don't you? Say you do—just a little better?"
"I like you both very much," said Jane sedately; and then with a spark of malice she added: "Just now perhaps I like him a little the best, because he hasn't seen me make a fool of myself."
A bell pealed violently.
"It's those Pigs—their luggage—Mr. Dix. . . ."
"Oh, I'll carry it up," said Mr. Rochester. "Come and show me which rooms."
They met Lucilla on the stairs.
"They want tea," she whispered, "and it's six. Forbes is getting it, but she says it's not her place. She's going to take it up to their rooms. And the mutton's not in yet, and the potatoes aren't peeled. And Forbes say, she'll either cook the dinner or wait at table, whichever we like, but she can't do both—and she won't."
"Can't Gladys wait?"
"I shouldn't think so," said Lucilla. "And I'm sure she can't cook. It's rather unfortunate, isn't it? Because its quite important to make a good impression on your Pigs the first day. I wish they sold roast legs of mutton in enormous tins. Why don't they?"
"Look here," said Rochester, "surely Mrs. Doveton would come, just for once, to get you out of a fix? Set Gladys to peel the potatoes and I'll go after Mrs. Doveton.
