blame me if" she was saying, and Jane was interrupting her with assurances of her complete immunity from blame whatever the creatures turned out like, when the front-door bell rang.
"Good gracious!" said Mrs. Doveton. "I can't go, miss, with my hands this state."
"But where's Forbes? Where's Stanley?"
"They're both out, miss. I gave 'em leave to go together for shopping. Neither of them can trust their own taste when it comes to camisoles. Perhaps Miss Lucy'll go."
"I'll get some of this off in case she's down the garden," said Jane, drawing water from the boiler, but she had made very little impression on the rich purple stains when the bell rang again.
"Oh, bother!" said Jane. "Here, I must go as I am. It may be a priceless Pig—I mean lodger—and it may go away if" She snatched down a towel from the rack, but before her hands were half dried the kitchen door cracked open with a noise like a pistol-shot and Gladys burst in, very highly coloured in the face and very bright as to the eye. "Oh, miss!" she said, and no more.
"Whatever is it now?" Jane asked, in the tone of a camel enquiring as to the exact nature of the last straw. "Why aren't you at the shop?"
"Mr. Herbert was passing, on his way to see you, Mrs. Doveton, and I asked him to keep the shop while I—while I—while I answered the bell." She giggled as one in possession of a secret joke.
"Well, who was it?" Jane asked, more relieved by Gladys's news than Mrs. Doveton appeared to be.
Gladys giggled again. "It's a lady, miss—an old lady—at least . . . And she asked to see you, miss."
"Well, I can't see her," said Jane, turning her purple palms upwards. "Find Miss Lucilla and ask her to see the lady."
"Miss Lucilla wouldn't do, the lady said. It was you, miss, as she wanted to see, Do excuse me going off like this,
