of
the house, and went indoors.

'Now, there's a funny thing; she's only a servant same as us, and yet she
thinks herself our better because her family's got blood. Well, ours has
got money, and, for my part, give me good wages and plenty to eat, and
blood be blowed!' remarked the young footman, who had been nettled at the
reproof.

'No low talk here, please,' said Sykes with dignity as he rose to see
about the wine for dinner.

Nanny went upstairs ostensibly to get her young lady's things out for
dinner, although, as it was only three o'clock, it was rather early; but
in reality she felt that Miss Horatia wanted one of her own people with
her at this moment, so she knocked at her door, and found Horatia in the
silver-fitted bathroom plunging her head into the marble basin.

'Miss Horatia, my dearie, what are you thinking about? This hot day it's
enough to give you your death!' she cried.

'Oh Nanny, I was so hot, and my head does ache! I really couldn't help
it,' exclaimed Horatia.

'You lie down on your bed, missie, and I'll lower the blinds and bathe
your head with this spray. You've overdone yourself getting into such a
taking with that wretched man,' said the old nurse soothingly, as she
patted up the pillows for her charge and lowered the green sun-blinds.

'He wasn't a wretched man; he had nothing to do with it. I touched the
high-speed gear, I tell you, and poor Tom Fox was as frightened as any
one.'

'I wasn't speaking of him. I know he wasn't to blame. And I'm talking of
some one else, as you very well know, whom there's no living in peace
with; and I know what you're going to say, Miss Horatia--that he's our
host, and my better, which he may be the first, but I don't know so much
about his being the second, for my father wouldn't have demeaned himself
by such language to any man, let alone before women. And as I'm speaking
I may as well say it all out, which is that if the master and mistress
had known what kind of place we were coming to they'd never have allowed
it. And if I write and tell them'----

'Tell them what, pray?' interrupted Horatia.

'What kind of a man Mr Clay is, which no one has a good word for him; and
however you manage to keep him in good temper, Sykes says, he doesn't
know,' wound up Nancy.

'I don't want to know what Sykes says; and if you can't talk of more
agreeable things than that I'd rather you went away and left my headache
to cure itself. I'm only tired after looking