and then Mrs Stiles asked me, Should I like to come and take my pudding with her and Mr Way, in her own pantry? I supposed I ought to. I sat gazing at the picture made all of hair. Mr Way read us pieces from the Maidenhead paper, and at every story—that were all about bulls breaking fences, or parsons making interesting sermons in church—Mrs Stiles shook her head, saying, ''Well, did you ever hear the like?'' and Mr Way would chuckle and say, ''You''ll see, Miss Smith, that we are quite a match for London, news-wise!''
Above his voice came the faint sound of laughter and scraping chairs, that was Cook and the scullery-maids and William Inker and the knife-boy, enjoying themselves in the kitchen.
Then the great house clock struck, and immediately after it the servants'' bell sounded; and that meant that Mr Lilly was ready to be seen by Mr Way into his bed, and that Maud was ready to be put by me into hers.
I almost lost my way again, on my way back up; but even so, when she saw me she said,
''Is that you, Susan? You are quicker than Agnes.'' She smiled. ''I think you are handsomer, too. I don''t think a girl can be hand-
some—__do you?—with red hair. But nor with fair hair, either. I
should like to be dark, Susan!''
She had had wine with her supper, and I had had beer. I should
ay we were both, in our own ways, rather tipsy. She had me stand