go on like this.
Don't take Prettyman's trouble so to heart. We'll do something! I'll
do something myself! I have a happy thought."

XIX

LAWYER AND CLIENT

Robinette had a bad night after the jewel exhibition, and a heavy head
and aching eyes prompted her to ask Little Cummins to bring her
breakfast to her bedroom.

It was touching to see that small person hovering over Robinette:
stirring the fire, sweeping the hearth, looping back the curtains,
tucking the slippers out of sight, and moving about the room like a
mother ministering to an ailing child. Finally she staggered in with
the heavy breakfast tray that she had carried through long halls and
up the stairs, and put it on the table by the bed.

"There's a new-laid egg, ma'am, that cook 'ad for the mistress, but I
thought you needed it more; an' I brewed the tea meself, to be sure,"
she cooed; "an' I've spread the loaf same as you like, an' cut the
bread thin, an' 'ere's one o' the roses you allers wears to breakfast;
an' wouldn't your erming coat be a comfort, ma'am?"

"Dear Little Cummins! How did you know I needed comfort? How did you
guess I was homesick?"

Robinette leaned her head against the housemaid's rough hand, always
stained with black spots that would give way to no scrubbing. From
morning to night she was in the coal scuttle or the grate or the
saucer of black lead, for she did nothing but lay fires, light fires,
feed fires, and tidy up after fires, for eight or nine months of the
year.

"You mustn't touch me, ma'am; I ain't fit; there's smut on me, an'
hashes, this time o' day," said Little Cummins.

"I don't care. I like you better with ashes than lots of people
without. You mustn't stay in the coal scuttle all your life, Little
Cummins; you must be my chambermaid some of these days when we can get
a good substitute for Mrs. de Tracy. Would you like that, if the
mistress will let you go?"

Little Cummins put her apron up to her eyes, and from its depths came
inarticulate bursts of gratitude and joy. Then peeping from it just
enough to see the way to the door, she ran out like a hare and
secluded herself in the empty linen-room until she was sufficiently
herself to join the other servants.

Robinette finished her breakfast and dressed. She had lacked courage
to meet the family party, although she longed for a talk with Mark
Lavendar. It was entirely normal, feminine, and according to all law,
human and divine, but it appealed