On stating the object of my visit, and that Lady Mervyn had directed me to call at that time, I was told to sit down and wait till she came in. It was past 6 o'clock when she returned, and even then she did not send for me immediately, but delayed doing so till she had leisurely examined the cards that had been left for her whilst she was out, refreshed herself with a cup of tea, and written a couple of notes. Having accomplished these things, she at last gave orders for me to be shown into her presence. She was about middle height, slightly made, and aristocratic looking. As she was rather short-sighted she wore a _pince-nez_, and this she put up, and coolly stared at me through, as soon as I entered the room. After a prolonged survey she dropped it, but had recourse to it again several times during the interview, always putting it up with an air of having suddenly bethought her of some feature, limb, or other part of me which she had hitherto omitted to study sufficiently, and at which she wanted to have another good look. I must say I thought that she used the _pince-nez_ in a manner which would have been considered intolerably rude if it had been directed at any one in her own rank of life; but then she regarded a servant as being a different sort of animal from herself, and would have laughed at the idea of a maid's not liking to be stared at as if she were made of wood or stone, instead of flesh and blood. She began by inquiring my name and age; to which I replied that I was called Caroline Jill; and that I was just twenty-two. For, though my real age was eighteen, yet I thought that that seemed rather too young for a person representing herself as having been a lady's-maid for the last two years, and that therefore I had better give myself credit for a few more years than I was actually entitled to. "Twenty-two!" she repeated; "you don't look your age. I should not have thought you so old as that. How long were you in your last situation? and what was the cause of your leaving?" "I was there two years, and I only left on account of the lady's death," I replied. "Did your ladyship know the late Lady Brown?" She shook her head. "Perhaps your ladyship may have heard of her," I continued; "she was the wife of Sir Bartholomew Brown, and used to write books sometimes?" "Oh yes; I did not know her, but I know who you mean now," answered Lady Mervyn; "was hers your last place?" "Yes," I replied, feeling that the ground was safe, and that I might produce my false testimonial. "Ever since her death, two months ago, Sir Bartholomew has been away from England; but, before going, he kindly gave me a character, for fear of my having any difficulty about getting another situation through there being no one from my last place for me to refer to. Here is what he wrote. He was good enough to tell me, when last I saw him, that he considered me to be the best maid his wife had ever had to travel with, and that I did just as well as a courier."