Jane was by this time busily engaged in sweeping the front stairs, while she wondered miserably if any girl in the whole world could be so unhappy and friendless as herself. She wished gloomily that she had not run away from Portland Square. She condemned herself bitterly for the pride and vainglory of her hasty actions, and with it all wave after wave of desperate homesickness surged over her young soul. It was scarcely to be wondered at that dust accumulated in dark nooks and corners should escape the notice of the tear-blurred hazel eyes, nor that the unswept rugs should be thoughtlessly pushed to one side. She was suddenly recalled to a sense of these shortcomings by Mrs. Belknap's crisp, American voice. "Why, _Jane_! You are not doing this work at all properly. One would think it was your first experience in sweeping!" "It is, ma'am," said Jane hopelessly. "Dear me! I'm afraid this will never do," went on Mrs. Belknap, with a discouraged sigh. "Can't you _see_ the dirt? Here, let me show you!" Jane stared at the faultless demonstration of housewifely skill with sullen resentment. In her own eyes she seemed to have sunken to a plane infinitely beneath that occupied by Susan, the housemaid in the Portland Square mansion. Susan, at least, knew how to do her work thoroughly and well. "Now, Jane, will you try again?" asked Mrs. Belknap, pleasantly conscious of a most praiseworthy patience and self-control. "I am sure you can sweep down these stairs properly, _if you try_, and if you will put your mind upon what you are doing. Then these rugs--I _think_ I told you to take them out of doors to brush. They are quite filled with dust and germs, I dare say." Mrs. Belknap appeared to expect some sort of reply to this serious arraignment, for she eyed Jane searchingly. "You didn't mention the rugs, ma'am," said poor Jane, with an uncontrollable quiver of her mutinous mouth; "but I will take them out, if you would like me to." As she bore her burden through the kitchen Mrs. Whittaker suspended her monotonous labors to remark: "My! _I_ wouldn't stir a foot to clean them rugs, if I was you. That's man's work. Mis' Radford--her 'at I was tellin' you wanted a girl--hires a man to clean the rugs every Thursday. 'Tain't no more'n right, neither!" The sun was shining cheerfully out of doors, and a brisk wind was hurrying the big, white clouds across the April sky. In spite of herself the clean, wholesome air and active exercise restored Jane's spirits. "I'll soon earn enough money to pay my passage back to England," she told herself, "and then--I can easily get a place as governess somewhere." The capricious breeze whipped her brown hair in clouds across her eyes, quite blinding her to the approach of the stout, rubicund, showily dressed person who paused to stare curiously at Jane before entering the kitchen door. This individual was discovered in close consultation with Mrs. Whittaker as Jane passed through the kitchen.