But Mab knew her very well, and burst into her little house at this hour which was Mrs. Brown’s own hour, in which the parish had no right to interfere with her, with an absence of regard which the girl did not realise, and which no doubt was an unthought-of result of the inferior position in which the schoolmistress was, though quite unintentional on the part of the young intruder. She gave the lightest little tap at the door of Mrs. Brown’s sitting-room, and burst in without waiting for any reply. Mab was, however, a little taken aback when she found Mrs. Brown seated at a little meal, which was not only very agreeable to the smell, but extremely dainty in appearance, much more so, Mab felt instinctively, than any table she was herself accustomed to. Perhaps it was the sight of this, so very different from the usual slovenly repast of the schoolmistresses, which brought Mab up suddenly with a little start, and cry: ‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ which she gave forth in spite of herself. ‘Why should you beg my pardon?’ said Mrs. Brown. She had what seemed a little silver dish before her--some dainty little twists and loaves of French bread--a cover on her table of exquisite linen, white and fresh. Mab knew how it feels when the table-cloth is not in its first freshness when any one comes, and how frequently that little domestic incident happens; but Mrs. Brown’s table-cloth shone like white satin, and was fresh in all its folds. ‘Why should you beg my pardon?’ she said. ‘Do you think I do not know, Miss Pakenham, that I belong to the parish, body and soul? I must eat, to be sure, in order to live, but I ought to know better than to expect that I am to eat undisturbed.’ ‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ said Mab again, crimson with shame; ‘it was so silly of me not to think: but as it is so early----’ ‘I must take my food when the children do so,’ said the schoolmistress; ‘pray sit down. I am not much of a sight when I feed, but still----’ ‘I hope you don’t think I came on purpose to disturb you at your--lunch,’ said Mab. To the schoolmistress of the old _régime_ she would have said dinner. ‘I came--to ask you if you wouldn’t say something--I mean recite something, or act something, at the entertainment to-night. We all think you would do it much better than any one here.’ ‘Do what? How kind of you--almost as if I were on an equality: though, perhaps it is because of some one having failed that the schoolmistress may come in? Who has failed, Miss Pakenham, at the eleventh hour? I see, of course, that in these circumstances to apply to a dependent was the only way.’ ‘Mrs. Brown,’ said Mab, ‘I have always thought you were a lady; but if you are so ready to think that we are not ladies, I shan’t think so any more.’