England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Guardian and ward -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
"Where's the letter?" asked the little servant, stretching out her hand
to receive it.
"Letter! I have no letter, but here is my card."
She shook her head, would not take the card, and, in a tone of deep
conviction, declared, "it was not a bit of use."
"I tell you I am come on business!" impatiently observed Cornelius.
"Well, then, where's the letter?"
There was so evident a connection in her mind between business and a
letter, that, annoyed as he was, Cornelius could not help laughing.
"I wish I had a letter, since your heart is set upon one," he replied,
good-humouredly; "however, I come not to deliver a letter, but to speak
to Mr. Thornton on very important business."
"Can't you give the letter, then?" she urged, in a tone of indignant
remonstrance at his obstinacy.
Cornelius searched in his pockets; no letter came forth. "On my word," he
gravely observed, "I have not got one; no, not even an old envelope."
"You can't come in, then!" she said, looking at him from behind the door,
as sharp and as snappish as a young pup learning to keep watch.
"I beg your pardon, I will go in," replied Cornelius with cool civility.
"If you don't take that there hand of yours away," cried the girl with
startling shrillness, "I shall set the light at it."
"Indeed! I am not going to have my poor fingers singed!" said Cornelius,
very decisively; so saying, he stooped and suddenly blew out the light.
She screamed, dropped the candlestick, and let go the door: we entered;
the girl ran away along the passage lit with a faint glimmering light
proceeding from the staircase above.
"Do you take me for a housebreaker?" asked Cornelius; "I tell you I want
to speak to Mr. Thornton on business."
She stopped short, looked at him with sullen suspicion, and doggedly
replied, "Master won't see you; he won't see none but the gentleman from
London."
"I am from London," quietly said Cornelius.
She stared for awhile like one bewildered, then opened a side-door whence
issued a stream of ruddy light, and muttering something in which the word
"London" was alone distinguishable, she showed us in and closed the door
upon us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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