miss." Gladys was still tittering tremulously. "I don't know what's come over me, I'm sure! It must be the weather or something."
"Did you show her into the drawing-room?"
"Of course, miss," said Gladys virtuously.
"I wish I'd done the flowers this morning," said Jane, at the glass by the window, dabbing at her hair with repressive fingers.
"I drew down the blinds, miss: the lady's eyes is weak—so she says. And oh, miss, I can't help laughing!" It was plain that she could not. "You with your hands like that and all. It do seem a sort of judgment—I mean a providence. Oh, I don't know what I mean!"
"I think you're forgetting yourself, my gell," said Mrs. Doveton sharply. "What's the lady's name?"
"Oh," said Gladys, "didn't I tell you? It's Mrs. Rochester—our young gentleman's ma. What a pity about your hands, miss!"
Well, it certainly was.
