Mrs. Lee. "I should like to gratify you. I know a mother has peculiar feelings, let her situation in life be what it will; but your child will do very well with the cook — hey, Sophy?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Ardley — you remember Mary Orme?"
"Oh, it was that drunken wretch, Morris, that Mary Orme objected to sleeping with."
"Yes, Mrs. Ardley — but — "
"But what, Sophy? you are always making mountains of molehills."
Mrs. Lee waited anxiously for the explanation of Sophy's "but." Sophy, however, though sympathizing with Mrs. Lee's scruples, did not like to risk offending Mrs. Ardley by telling the truth, that Ferris, the present cook, was strongly suspected of her predecessor's infirmity.
"At any rate," said Mrs. Ardley, "let your little girl come and try. I take a fancy to her."
This first expression of good-will that she had heard that day brought Mrs. Lee almost to a conclusion; but still she shrunk from exposing Lucy to such contact with a stranger, of whose good character neither mistress nor maid ventured to give an assurance, and it was finally settled that if Mrs. Lee did not find a place to suit her better, Lucy should come on Monday morning. "And at any rate, if she does, let her call and let me know," said Mrs. Ardley.
"How silly it is in the woman to strain so at a gnat!" said Mrs. Ardley, after Mrs. Lee's departure; "when, by her own account, they live in such a mess at home."
"Yes, ma'am — but I suspect she has seen better days."
