Innocent took no part in the discussion. She stood in the centre of the little room, longing to be alone. Oh, if they would only go away and leave her to herself! “I never have a maid,” she exerted herself to say, when she saw that the tall old woman remained in the room; “I do not want anything. Please go away.” “Maybe it’s me that wants something,” said Alice, authoritatively, and began her ministrations at once, paying very little attention to the girl’s reluctance. “Hair clipped short, like a boy’s--that’s her outlandish breeding,” said Alice to herself. “A wild look, like a bit sauvage out of the woods--that’s loneliness; and two great glowering een. But no like her mother--no like her mother, the Lord be thanked!” Then this homely old woman said two or three words, somewhat stiffly and foreignly, in Italian, which made Innocent stare, and roused her up at once. She had no enthusiasm for the country in which she had lived all her life; but still, she had lived there, and the sound of the familiar tongue woke her up out of her stupor. “Are you not English,” she said, “like all the rest?” “God be thanked, no, I’m no English,” said Alice, “but I’m Scotch, and it’s no likely that you would ken the difference. I used to be with your mother when she was young like you. I was in Pisa with the family, where you’ve come from. I have never forgotten it. Do you mind your mother? Turn your head round, like a good bairn, that I may untie this ribbon about your neck.” “Why do you all ask me about my mother?” said Innocent, in a pettish tone. “No, I never knew her; why should I? The lady down-stairs asked me too.” “Because she was your mother’s sister, and I was your mother’s woman,” said Alice. “I’m much feared, my honey, that you’ve no heart. Neither had your mother before you. Do you mean aye to call my mistress ‘the lady down-stairs’?” “I don’t know,” said Innocent, in dull stupor. She felt disposed to cry, but could not tell why she had this inclination. “What should I call her? No one ever told me her name,” she added, after a moment’s pause. “This will be a bonnie handful,” said Alice to herself, reflectively. “Did Mr. Frederick never tell you she was your aunt? But maybe you do not ken what that means? She’s your nearest kin now you’ve lost that ill man, your father. She’s the one that will take care of you and help you, if you’re good to her--or whether or no,” Alice added, under her breath. “Take care of me? _He_ promised to take care of me,” said Innocent, with her eyes lightening up; “I do not want any one else.” “‘He,’ meaning your cousin?” said Alice grimly.