FATE'S WAY, OR LADY MEG'S
were to appear in its true measure, the tally of the Brownlows' benevolence was reckoned. But Mrs. Brownlow won small comfort from Lady Meg: she got a stiff touch of the truth.
"Ran in and out of the drawing-room!" she said. "Did she? The truth is, Lizzie, you've spoiled her, and now you're angry with her for being spoiled."
"What is she now, Mrs. Brownlow?" asked Pindar, with a sly intention. Was this Percival's deuced pretty girl?
"She works in the kitchen, Mr. Pindar."
"The girl!" his eyes signalled to Mr. Pikes. "Let Lady Meg see her," he urged, insinuatingly. "She has a wonderful way with girls."
"I don't want to see her; and I know your game, Pindar," said Lady Meg.
"I'm afraid she must go," sighed Mrs. Brownlow. Her husband said, more robustly, that such an event would be a good riddance—a saying repeated, with the rest of the conversation, by the butler (one William Byles, still living) to the gratified ears of Mrs. Smilker in the kitchen.
"But I'm not easy about her future. She's an odd child, and looks it."
"Pretty?" This from Mr. Pindar.
"Well, I don't know. Striking-looking, you'd rather say, perhaps, Mr. Pindar."
"Let her go her own way. We've talked quite enough about her." Lady Meg sounded decisive and not a little bored.
"And then"—Mrs. Brownlow made bold to go on for a moment—"such a funny mark! Many people wouldn't like it, I'm sure."
Lady Meg turned sharply on her. "Mark? What do you mean? What mark?"
33
