pt well.''
I didn''t know what to say to that. She went on, anyway:
''Miss Maud rises early. She has asked that you be sent to her. Should you like to wash your hands before you go up? Miss Maud is like her uncle, and particular.''
My hands seemed clean enough to me; but I washed them anyway, in a little stone sink she had there in the corner of her pantry.
I felt the beer I had drunk, and wished I had not drunk it. I wished I had used the privy when I came across it in the yard. I was certain I should never find my way to it again.
I was nervous.
She took me up. We went, as before, by the servants'' stairs, but then struck out into a handsomer passage, that led to one or two doors. At one of these she knocked. I didn''t catch the answer that came, but suppose she heard it. She straightened her back and turned the iron handle, and led me in.
The room was a dark one, like all the rooms there. Its walls were panelled all over in an old black wood, and its floor—which was bare, but for a couple of trifling Turkey carpets, that were here and there worn to the weave—was also black. There were some great heavy tables about, and one or two hard sofas. There was a painting of a brown hill, and a vase full of dried leaves, and a dead snake in a glass case with a white egg in its mouth. The windows showed the grey sky and bare wet branches. The window-panes were small, and leaded, and rattled in their frames.