Jane herself had never been here before.

This evening she had gone absolutely because she was following Ameerah.
She was following Ameerah because, during the afternoon tea-hour in the servants' hall, she had caught a sentence or so in the midst of a gossiping story, which had made her feel that she should be unhappy if she did not go down the walk and to the water-side,--see the water, the boat, the steps, everything.
"My word, mother!" she had said, "it's a queer business for a respectable girl that's maid in a great place to be feeling as if she had to watch black people, same as if she was in the police, and not daring to say a word; for if I did say a word, Captain Osborn's clever enough to have me sent away from here in a jiffy.

And the worst of it is," twisting her hands together, "there _mayn't_ be _anything_ going on really.

If they were as innocent as lambs they couldn't act any different; and just the same, things _might_ have happened by accident." "That's the worst of it," was Mrs.Cupp's fretted rejoinder.

"Any old piece of carving might have dropped out of a balustrade, and any lady that wasn't well might have nightmare and be disturbed in her sleep." "Yes," admitted Jane, anxiously, "that is the worst of it.