e a few words to her ladyship;
whereon she uttered a faint cry, and stiffened. A moment and she turned
and came back to the table, her face crimson, her headdress nodding.
She looked at the girl, who had just risen to her feet.

'You baggage!' she hissed, 'begone! Out of this house! How dare you sit
in my presence?' And she pointed to the door.

CHAPTER IX

ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON

The scene presented by the room at this moment was sufficiently
singular. The waiters, drawn to the spot by the fury of my lady's tone,
peered in at the half-opened door, and asking one another what the
fracas was about, thought so; and softly called to others to witness it.
On one side of the table rose Lady Dunborough, grim and venomous; on the
other the girl stood virtually alone--for the elder woman had fallen to
weeping helplessly, and the attorney seemed to be unequal to this new
combatant. Even so, and though her face betrayed trouble and some
irresolution, she did not blench, but faced her accuser with a slowly
rising passion that overcame her shyness.

'Madam,' she said, 'I did not clearly catch your name. Am I right in
supposing that you are Lady Dunborough?'

The peeress swallowed her rage with difficulty. 'Go!' she cried, and
pointed afresh to the door. 'How dare you bandy words with me? Do you
hear me? Go!'

'I am not going at your bidding,' the girl answered slowly. 'Why do you
speak to me like that?' And then, 'You have no right to speak to me in
that way!' she continued, in a flush of indignation.

'You impudent creature!' Lady Dunborough cried. 'You shameless,
abandoned baggage! Who brought you in out of the streets? You, a
kitchen-wench, to be sitting at this table smiling at your betters!
I'll--Ring the bell! Ring the bell, fool!' she continued impetuously,
and scathed Mr. Thomasson with a look. 'Fetch the landlord, and let me
see this impudent hussy thrown out! Ay, madam, I suppose you are here
waiting for my son; but you have caught me instead, and I'll be
bound. I'll--'

'You'll disgrace yourself,' the girl retorted with quiet pride. But she
was very white. 'I know nothing of your son.'

'A fig for the lie, mistress!' cried the old harridan; and added, as was
too much the fashion in those days, a word we cannot print. The Duchess
of Northumberland had the greater name for coarseness; but Lady
Dunborough's tongue was known in town. 'Ay, that smartens you, does it?
'she continued with cruel delight; for