Then she walked away, her head well up, and with that stately bird-like gait seen in some women. When Fan had finished the steps she went into the kitchen, and the cook gave her some bread and cheese and a glass of ale, which revived her and made her more strong and hopeful than she had felt for many a day. Then she began to wonder what the fine lady was going to say to her, and whether she would give her twopence instead of the usual penny. Or perhaps it was intended to present her with an old gown or pair of boots. Such things had happened, she knew, and the thought that such a thing might happen again, and to her, made her heart beat fast; and though it was so pleasant resting there in that bright warm kitchen, she began to wish for the lady's return, so that her suspense might end. And while she sat there occupied with her thoughts, the cook, a staid-looking woman of about forty--the usual age of the London cook--made up her fire and went about doing a variety of things, taking no notice of her guest. Then the housemaid came running down the stairs singing into the kitchen, dusting-brush and dust-pan in her hands--a pretty girl with dark merry bright eyes, and her brown hair worn frizzled on her forehead. “My!” she exclaimed, starting back at seeing Fan. And after surveying her for some time with a mocking smile playing about the corners of her pretty ripe mouth, she said, “Is this one of your poor relations, Mrs. Topping?” “No, Rosie; that she ain't. The missus gave her the steps to clean, and told her to wait here till she got back.” The maid burst into a ringing peal of laughter. “Fancy, Miss Starbrow!” she exclaimed. “Where do you come from?” she continued, addressing Fan. “Whitechapel? Seven Dials?” Fan reddened with shame and anger, and refused to reply: stubborn silence was her only shield against those who scoffed at her extreme poverty; and that this pretty girl was mocking her she knew very well. Then the maid sat down and stared at her, and amused herself and fellow-servant with malicious comments on Fan's dress. “May I ask you, miss, where you got that lovely hat?” she said. “From Madame Elise? Why, of course, how could I ask! I assure you it is most charmingly becoming. I shall try to get one like it, but I'm afraid I can't go beyond six guineas. And your shawl--a Cashmere, I see. A present from her Majesty, no doubt.” “Oh, do be quiet, Rosie; you'll kill me!” cried the cook, overcome with laughter at such exquisite wit. But Rosie, seeing the effects of it, only became more lively and satirical, until Fan, goaded beyond endurance, started up from her seat, determined to make her escape. Fortunately at that moment the lady of the house returned, and the maid scampered off to open the door to her. Soon she returned and dropped Fan a mocking curtsey. “Please follow me this way,” she said. “Miss Starbrow regrets that she has been detained so long, and is now quite ready to receive you.”