his, appearing in those lower
regions in the full glory of apron and rolled-up sleeves, greatly to the
delight of the youthful maid-of-all-work, who, being feeble of intellect
and fond of society, regarded the prospect of spending the afternoon
with her as a source of absolute rejoicing. The "Sepoy," as she was
familiarly designated by the family, was strongly attached to Dolly, as,
indeed, she was to every other member of the household. The truth was,
that the usefulness of the Sepoy (whose baptismal name was Belinda) was
rather an agreeable fiction than a well-established fact. She had been
adopted as a matter of charity, and it was charity rather than any
recognized brilliance of parts which caused her to be retained. Phil had
picked her up on the streets one night in time gone by, and had brought
her home principally because her rags were soaked and she had asserted
that she had nowhere to go for shelter, and partly, it must be
confessed, because she was a curiosity. Having taken her in, nobody was
stern enough to turn her out to face her fate again, and so she stayed.
Nobody taught her anything in particular about household economy,
because nobody knew anything particular to teach her. It was understood
that she was to do what she could, and that what she could not do
should be shared among them. She could fetch and carry, execute small
commissions, manage the drudgery and answer the door-bell, when she was
presentable, which was not often; indeed, this last duty had ceased
to devolve upon her, after she had once confronted Lady Augusta with
personal adornments so remarkable as to strike that august lady dumb
and rigid with indignation upon the threshold, and cause her, when she
recovered herself, to stonily, but irately demand an explanation of the
gratuitous insult she considered had been offered her. Belinda's
place was in the kitchen, after this, and to these regions she usually
confined herself, happily vigorous in the discharge of her daily duties.
She was very fond of Dolly, and hailed the approach of her days of
freedom with secret demonstrations of joy. She hoarded the simple
presents of finery given her by that young person with care, and
regarded them in the light of sacred talismans. A subtle something in
her dwarfed, feeble, starved-out nature was stirred, it may be, by the
sight of the girl's life and brightness; and, apart from this, it
would not have been like Dolly Crewe if she had not sympathized, h