"I suppose it will be all right."

"Of course!" snapped the trustee patronizingly.

"But I must tell Rachel."

"Rachel? Rachel? Oh! _Her_! Why tell any one?" Mr. Batchgrew
sniffed very actively.

"Oh! I shouldn't be easy if I didn't tell Rachel," insisted Mrs.
Maldon with firmness.

Before the trustee could protest anew she had rung the bell.



VIII

It was another and an apronless Rachel that entered the room, a Rachel
transformed, magnificent in light green frock with elaborate lacy
ruchings and ornamentations, and the waist at the new fashionable
height. Her ruddy face and hands were fresh from water, her hair very
glossy and very neat: she was in high array. This festival attire
Mrs. Maldon now fully beheld for the first time. It, indeed, honoured
herself, for she had ordained a festive evening: but at the same
time she was surprised and troubled by it. As for Mr. Batchgrew, he
entirely ignored the vision. Stretched out in one long inclined plane
from the back of his chair down to the brass fender, he contemplated
the fire, while picking his teeth with a certain impatience, and still