She did not ring the bell and “summon Pollie to her presence.” She had the thoughtful woman’s habit of seldom ringing the bell to claim the attendance of the solitary servant. She went towards the head of the kitchen stairs and lingered there a moment. She heard Pollie walk across the kitchen, and then the rattle of some tin vessels. She made up her mind to go down and face the worst at once. Somehow the kitchen did not look quite so pleasant as usual. It was clean and fairly tidy, but the things last used were not cleared away, and the dresser lacked the glass with a few flowers which generally adorned it. Pollie was busy at the fire-place. She looked over her shoulder at her mistress, but did not turn round, and went on with what she was doing. She was a comely personable girl with a good head and a trim figure. Perhaps there was a little hardness about her mouth, or it might be that she was setting her teeth in face of what was coming. “Pollie,” said the mistress very gently, “I have just been told that you are thinking of leaving us and getting married?” Pollie did not answer quickly. She went on doing something with great energy. “Well, ma’am, yes,” she said; “it is so.” “And when is it to be, Pollie?” asked Mrs. Challoner. “I’m to be married at Christmas,” Pollie answered with great firmness. “Then I am to take your notice at once?” said Mrs. Challoner. “Well, ma’am, yes. I’d like to leave on the 1st of November. I’ve things to do. But if you would like me to stay a week or two longer, I’d be willing to oblige you.” Mrs. Challoner reflected for a moment. It is well-nigh impossible to accept a favour from one who has suddenly cut us down to the bare legal rights of our position. “No, Pollie, thank you,” she said; “you can go at the time that suits you best.” “Thank you, m’m,” said Pollie, still rubbing vigorously. Mrs. Challoner did not feel as if she could drop the matter right off here. It did not seem even fair to this girl, who had been with her and had worked faithfully for her for seven years, not to let her know exactly what feelings her present course had evoked. “Pollie,” she began very gently, “is not all this rather sudden?” “Well, ma’am, you’ve got your proper notice, and I’ve said I’d not stand on giving you a week or two extra. What more can I do?” said Pollie. “That is quite true, Pollie. But look at it in this light—if you had only been with me for two or three months, you would be obliged to do as much as you are doing now. Don’t you think something else comes into the matter when people have been together for years and have grown to rely on each other and to feel as if each other would be always there, unless they knew that something was coming to part them?” “I was not to know that you mightn’t get rid of me any day, ma’am,” said Pollie. “It seems like as if there might be changes.”