The same day Janey Briarley presented herself to Mr. Ffrench's housekeeper, with a message from her mother. Having delivered the message, she was on her way from the housekeeper's room, when Miss Ffrench, who sat in the drawing-room, spoke through the open door to the servant. "If that is the child," she said, "bring her here to me." Janey entered the great room, awe-stricken and overpowered by its grandeur. Miss Ffrench, who sat near the fire, addressed her, turning her head over her shoulder. "Come here," she commanded. Janey advanced with something approaching tremor. Miss Ffrench was awe-inspiring anywhere, but Miss Ffrench amid the marvels of her own drawing-room, leaning back in her chair and regarding her confusion with a suggestion of friendly notice, was terrible. "Sit down," she said, "and talk to me." [Illustration: "SIT DOWN," SHE SAID, "AND TALK TO ME."] But here the practical mind rebelled and asserted itself, in spite of abasement of spirit. "I haven't getten nowt to talk about," said Janey, stoutly. "What mun I say?" "Anything you like," responded Miss Ffrench. "I am not particular. There's a chair." Janey seated herself in it. It was a large one, in which her small form was lost. Her parcel was a big one, but Miss Ffrench did not tell her to put it down, so she held it on her knee and was almost hidden behind it, presenting somewhat the appearance of a huge newspaper package, clasped by arms and surmounted by a small, sharp face and an immense bonnet, with a curious appendage of short legs and big shoes. "I dunnot see," the girl was saying mentally, and with some distaste for her position, "what she wants wi' me." But as she stared over the top of her parcel, she gradually softened. The child found Miss Ffrench well worth looking at. "Eh!" she announced, with admiring candor. "Eh! but tha art han'some!" "Am I?" said Rachel Ffrench. "Thank you." "Aye," answered Janey, "tha art. I nivver seed no lady loike thee afore, let alone a young woman. I've said so mony a toime to Mester Murdoch." "Have you?" "Aye, I'm allus talkin' to him about thee." "That's kind," said Rachel Ffrench. "I dare say he enjoys it. Who is he?" "Him!" exclaimed Janey. "Dost na tha know him? Him as was at our house th' day yo' coom th' first toime. Him as dragged thee out o' th' engine." "Oh!" said Miss Ffrench, "the engineer." "Aye," in a tone of some discomfiture. "He's a engineer, but he is na th' common workin' soart. Granny Dixon says he's getten gentlefolks' ways." "I should think," remarked Miss Ffrench, "that Mrs. Dixon knew." "Aye, she's used to gentlefolk. They've takken notice on her i' her young days. She knowed thy grandfeyther." "She gave me to understand as much," responded Miss Ffrench, smiling at the recollection this brought to her mind.