They both left the room. I supposed that Miss Delves was going to dine presently, for a cloth was spread over one end of the table, with a knife and silver forks, the cruet-stand and salt-cellar, glasses, and a decanter of wine. Presently Jemima came back with a small tray, that had my tea upon it. She seemed a free-and-easy sort of girl, sat down in a chair, and began chattering. Another servant came in with a small jar of preserves. They called her Sarah. "Miss Delves has sent some jam for the young lady, if she'd like it. Or will she take a slice of cold meat first, she says?" "I'll have the jam, please." "That's right, Miss," laughed Jemima. "Sweets is good." "Arn't you coming to your tea, Jemima? There'll be a fuss if she comes in and finds you have not begun it." "Bother the tea! We are not obliged to swallow it down just at the minute she pleases," was the answer of Jemima. "I say," exclaimed the other suddenly, "what do you think I saw? Young King——" Jemima gave a warning shake of the head, and pointed to me. The conversation was dropped to a whisper, in which I once caught the words "that handsome George Heneage." Presently steps were heard approaching, and the two maids disturbed themselves. Sarah caught up the plate of bread and butter, and stood as if she were handing it to me, and Jemima stirred the fire vigorously. It had been warm in the day, but the bit of lighted fire in the grate looked pleasant in the autumn evening. The footsteps passed on. "How stupid you are, Sarah! startling one for nothing!" exclaimed Jemima. "I thought it was Charlotte Delves. It sounded just like her foot." "She's in the kitchen, and won't come out of it till the dinner's gone in. She's in one of her tempers to-day." "Is Charlotte Delves the mistress?" I could not help asking. Both the maids burst out laughing. "She would like to be, Miss; and she is, too, in many things," answered Jemima. "When young madam came home first——" "Hush, Jemima! she may go and repeat it again." Jemima looked at me. "No: she does not look like it. You won't go and repeat in the drawing-room the nonsense we foolish servants talk, will you, Miss Hereford?" "Of course I will not. Mamma taught me never to carry tales; she said it made mischief." "And so it does, Miss," cried Jemima. "Your mamma was a nice lady, I'm sure! Was she not Mrs. Edwin Barley's sister?" Before I had time to answer, Charlotte Delves came in. We had not heard her, and I thought she must have crept up on tiptoe. Sarah made her escape. Jemima took up the jam-pot. "What are you waiting for?" she demanded, with asperity. "I came in to see if the young lady wanted anything, ma'am." "When Miss Hereford wants anything, she will ring."