those kitchen maids, and now and then I was rather put to it for a
wise reply. I said as little as might be, using the dialect, long
familiar to me, of the French Canadian. My bonnet amused them. It
was none too new or fashionable, and I did not remove it.

"Afraid we 'll steal it," I heard one of them whisper in the next
room. Then there was a loud laugh.

They gave me a French paper. I read every line of it, and sat
looking out of a window at the tall trees, at servants who passed
to and fro, at his Lordship's horses, led up and down for exercise
in the stable-yard, at the twilight glooming the last pictures of a
long day until they were all smudged with darkness. Then
candle-light, a trying supper hour with maids and cooks and grooms
and footmen at the big table, English, every one of them, and set
up with haughty curiosity. I would not go to the table, and had a
cup of tea and a biscuit there in my corner. A big butler walked
in hurriedly awhile after seven. He looked down at me as if I
were the dirt of the gutter.

"They 're waitin'," said he, curtly. "An' Sir Chawles would like
to know if ye would care for a humberreller?"

"Ah, m'sieu'! he rains?" I inquired.

"No, mum."

"Ah! he is going to rain, maybe?"

He made no answer, but turned quickly and went to a near closet,