"Yes, I'm here--I'm Mrs.
Ranger," said she; and she looked beyond him to the victoria in which sat Mrs.Whitney.

"How d'ye do, Matilda ?" she called.

"Come right in.
As usual when the canneries are running, I'm my own upstairs girl.

I reckon your young man here thinks I ought to discharge her and get one that's tidier." "Your young man here" was stiffly touching the brim of his top hat and saying: "Beg parding, ma'am." "Oh, that's all right," replied Mrs.Ranger; "I am what I look to be!" Behind her now appeared Adelaide, her cheeks burning in mortification she was ashamed of feeling and still more ashamed of being unable to conceal.
"Go and put on something else, mother," she urged in an undertone; "I'll look after Mrs.Whitney till you come down." "Ain't got time," replied her mother, conscious of what was in her daughter's mind and a little contemptuous and a little resentful of it.
"I guess Tilly Whitney will understand.

If she don't, why, I guess we can bear up under it." Mrs.Whitney had left her carriage and was advancing up the steps.