lied Madam, "'tis becoming in maids to wait till they are
spoken to. Had you listened with proper respect, you would have heard
me bid Betty lay out one also for you. You cannot use them at this
season."

Rhoda subsided, somewhat discontentedly.

"Two pairs of black Spanish gloves, Betty; and a black fan, and black
velvet stays. (When the year is out she must have a silver lace.) And
bid Dobbins send up shoes to fit on, with black buckles--two pairs; and
lay out black stockings--two pairs of silk, and two of worsted; and
plain cambric aprons--they may be laced when the year is out. I think
that is all. Oh!--a fur tippet, Betty."

And with this last order Madam marched away.

"Oh, shocking!" cried Rhoda, the instant she thought her grandmother out
of hearing. "I vow, but she's going to have you as fine as me. Every
bit of it. Betty, isn't it a shame?"

"Well, no, Mrs Rhoda, I don't see as how 'tis," returned Betty,
bluntly. "Mrs Phoebe, she's just the same to Madam as you are."

"But she isn't!" exclaimed Rhoda, blazing up. "I'm her eldest
daughter's child, and she's only the youngest. And she hasn't done it
before, neither. Last night she didn't let her kiss her hand. I say,
Betty, 'tis a crying shame!"

"Maybe Madam thought better of it this morning," suggested Betty,
speaking with a pin in her mouth.

"Well, 'tis a burning shame!" growled Rhoda.

"Perhaps, Mrs Betty," said Phoebe's low voice, "you could leave the
satin things for a little while?"

"Mrs Phoebe, I durstn't, my dear!" rejoined Betty; "nay, not if 'twas
ever so! Madam, she's used to have folk do as she bids 'em; and she'll
make 'em, too! Never you lay Mrs Rhoda's black looks to heart, my
dear, she'll have forgot all about it by this time to-morrow."

Rhoda had walked away.

"But I shall not!" answered Phoebe, softly.

"Deary me, child!" said Betty, turning to look at her, "don't you go for
to fret over that. Why, if a bit of a thing like that'll trouble you,
you'll have plenty to fret about at White-Ladies. Mrs Rhoda, she's on
and off with you twenty times a day; and you'd best take no notice. She
don't mean anything ill, my dear; 'tis only her phantasies."

"Oh, Mrs Betty! I wish--"

"Phoebe!" came up from below. "Fetch my cloak and hood, and bring your
own--quick, now! We are about to drive out with Madam."

"Come, dry your eyes, child, and I'll fetch the things," said Betty,
soothingly. "You'll be the better o