Lally returned to Canterbury in the cab that had brought her out to Sandy Lands, Mrs. Blight’s pert little villa in the suburbs, and entered upon the task of procuring a neat although necessarily scanty wardrobe. She bought a cheap box, which she had sent to her lodgings. A lady’s furnishing house yielded her a change of under garments, another print dress, and a gown of black alpaca, and a supply of collars and cuffs; her entire purchases amounting to three pounds ten shillings. She carried her effects to her attic lodgings, the rent of which she had paid in advance, packed her box, and set out again in the cab for Sandy Lands. It was noon when the vehicle stopped again before the little villa. The cabman rang the garden bell as before, and when the housemaid appeared he dumped down Lally’s box upon the gravelled walk, received his pay, and departed. The smart housemaid was as contemptuous as before of Lally’s humble garments, but spoke to her familiarly, as if the two were upon a social level, and conducted her toward the rear porch, saying: “Missus said you was to be shown up to your room, Miss, to make your twilet before seeing the children. If you please,” added the girl, with increasing familiarity, “you and I are to see a good deal of each other, and so I want to know what to call you.” Whatever the social rank of Lally’s parents, Lally herself was a lady by instinct and education. The housemaid’s easy patronage was offensive to her. She answered quietly: “You may call me Miss Bird.” “Oh,” said the housemaid, with a sniff and a toss of her head. “That’s the talk, is it? Well, then, Miss Bird, follow me up to your room. This way, Miss Bird. Up these stairs, Miss Bird.” Lally followed her guide up the stairs to the third and topmost story, and to a rear room. “This is the room of the nussery governess,” said the offended housemaid, her nose in the air. “The room on your right is the school-room, Miss Bird. That on the left is the nussery. You are to have your room to yourself, Miss Bird, which I hopes will suit you. There’s no petting of governesses in this here ’stablishment. You rises at seven, Miss Bird, and eats with the children. You begins lessons at nine o’clock, Miss Bird, and keeps ’em up till luncheon, and then comes music, langwidges, and them sort. Dinner in the school-room, Miss Bird, at five o’clock. Your evenings you has to yourself.” “I shall receive my list of duties from Mrs. Blight,” said Lally pleasantly, “but I am obliged to you all the same.” The housemaid’s face softened under Lally’s gentleness and sweetness. “I wouldn’t wonder if she was a born lady, after all,” the girl thought. “She won’t stand putting down, and her face is that sorrowful I pity her.” But she did not give expression to these thoughts. What she did say was this: “My name’s Loizy, and if I can do anything for you just let me know. There’s my bell, and I must go. When you get ready, come down stairs to Missus’s boo-door.”