grumbled Rachel, as she laid down her knitting reluctantly, and rose
from her seat. "Nobody seems to have any consideration for anybody else.
But that's the way of the world."

Opening the outer door, she saw before her a tall woman, dressed in a
gown of some dark stuff, with strongly marked, and not altogether
pleasant, features.

"Are you the lady of the house?" inquired the visitor, abruptly.

"There ain't any ladies in this house," answered Rachel. "You've come to
the wrong place. We have to work for a living here."

"The woman of the house, then," said the stranger, rather impatiently.
"It doesn't make any difference about names. Are you the one I want to
see?"

"No, I ain't," said Rachel, shortly.

"Will you tell your mistress that I want to see her, then?"

"I have no mistress," said Rachel. "What do you take me for?"

"I thought you might be the servant, but that don't matter. I want to
see Mrs. Harding. Will you call her, or shall I go and announce myself?"

"I don't know as she'll see you. She's busy in the kitchen."

"Her business can't be as important as what I've come about. Tell her
that, will you?"