with the looks of her possible mistress. The thoughts of each woman ran as follows,— 

 Miss Loach to herself.  "Humph! Plain-looking, sallow skin, rather fine eyes and a slack mouth. Not badly dressed for a servant, and displays some taste. She might turn my old dresses at a pinch. Sad expression, as though she had something on her mind. Honest-looking, but I think a trifle inquisitive, seeing how she examined the room and is stealing glances at me. Talks sufficiently, but in a low voice. Fairly intelligent, but not too much so. Might be secretive. Humph!" 

 The thoughts of Susan Grant.  "Handsome old lady, probably nearly sixty. Funny dress for ten o'clock in the morning. She must be rich, to wear purple silk and old lace and lovely rings at this hour. A hard mouth, thin nose, very white hair and very black eyebrows. Got a temper I should say, and is likely to prove an exacting mistress. But I want a quiet home, and the salary is good. I'll try it, if she'll take me." 

 Had either mistress or maid known of each other's thoughts, a conclusion to do business might not have been arrived at. As it was, Miss Loach, after a few more questions, appeared satisfied. All the time she kept a pair of very black eyes piercingly fixed on the girl's face, as though she would read her very soul. But Susan had nothing to conceal, so far as Miss Loach could gather, so in the end she resolved to engage her. 

 "I think you'll do," she said nodding, and poking up the fire, with a shiver, although the month was June.  "The situation is a quiet one. I hope you have no followers." 

 "No, ma'am," said Susan and flushed crimson. 

 "Ha!" thought Miss Loach, "she has been in love—jilted probably. All the better, as she won't bring any young men about my quiet house." 

 "Will you not read my characters, ma'am?" 

 Miss Loach pushed the two papers towards the applicant.  "I judge for myself," said she calmly.  "Most characters I read are full of lies. Your looks are enough for me. Where were you last?" 

 "With a Spanish lady, ma'am!" 

 "A Spanish lady!"  Miss Loach dropped the poker she was holding, with a clatter, and frowned so deeply that her black eyebrows met over her high nose.  "And her name?" 

 "Senora Gredos, ma'am!" 

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