Jane sternly suppressed the feeling of gratitude, which threatened to well up in her homesick heart, with an exuberance entirely disproportionate to the occasion. But John Everett had already caught the upward flicker of the girl's long lashes, and the shadow of a smile which hovered about her mouth. This particular young American was thinking of many things as he strode briskly toward the grocery; but chiefly of the arena presented by his sister's small kitchen, and of the varied actors therein. "Man's inhumanity to man may be a live topic," reflected Mr. Everett sagely, "but what about woman's inhumanity to woman? And yet sis doesn't mean to be unkind." CHAPTER VIII The growing conviction of her own folly haunted Jane even in her belated dreams, in which she found herself once more in the pleasant English schoolroom superintending her two small cousins in their youthful efforts to comprehend the fundamental principles of good conduct. "You should always be considerate to those beneath you, Percy," she seemed to be saying, "and help them whenever you can." Then she had quoted the grand old motto of the French aristocracy, "_noblesse oblige_," explaining how one's superiority in any particular only added to one's obligation to those less fortunate. It was hard to awaken from this dream to find the rain beating heavily upon the roof of Mrs. Belknap's trunkroom, and to realize, from an inspection of the loud-voiced nickel clock which she had been told to take upstairs, that she was very late indeed. Mrs. Belknap was engaged in preparing breakfast as expeditiously as was possible with her child hanging about her skirts and clamoring for his food. She bestowed an impatient glance upon Jane as she entered the kitchen, which had the effect of dispelling that young person's contrition as effectually as one of Lady Agatha's ill-timed reproaches. "I am sorry to be late," said Jane stiffly. Mrs. Belknap did not reply. At the moment she was adding boiling water to the coffee pot, and stirring its contents with a long-handled spoon. Jane shrugged her shoulders. "She's an ill-bred person," she told herself resentfully. "Shall I lay the table, madam?" she ventured, after an uncomfortable silence, during which she watched her young mistress's deft motions with dismayed interest. "That is already done," replied Mrs. Belknap, turning her pretty, flushed face upon Jane. "I believe I told you last night that Mr. Belknap and Mr. Everett were obliged to leave for the city on the half-past seven car. You should have been down an hour ago. I never call a servant," she added severely. Jane swallowed hard. Then _noblesse oblige_ recurred to her mind. "You did tell me," she said, very gently, "and I am sorry I overslept. I will try not to do that again. Shall I give Master Buster his breakfast, ma'am?"