Master and Maid

ad been housekeeper at B. House, she had never lef

reased!Miss Foster was not fond of music, and she beheld with positive dismay that a grand piano, open, with long lid slanted upwards, was placed athwart the inner wall. A huge harp stood just behind it, and an unfamiliar bulging green silk bag was flung on the Chesterfield, where it sprawled in flagrant publicity. The overpowering scent of violets was easily traceable to a large china bowl, full of that modest flower, which stood on a little table, moved from its accustomed place against the wall close to a big chair by the fireplace. Moreover, on that table, cheek by jowl with the violets, lay a tin of "Player's Navy Cut," a common box of kitchen matches, an ash-tray, and a very brown meershaum pipe. Miss Foster passed her hand over her eyes to make sure that these things were not an hallucination, and at that moment Ford came in, bearing tea."What on earth is the meaning of all this, Ford?" poor Miss Foster exclaimed, waving her hand in the direction of the piano."It's been got for Miss Clonmell, 'm. This morning the men brought the piano; she brought 'er 'arp with her.""Who brought a harp?" Miss Foster cried irritably, as though she could hardly believe her ears. "Ford, what are you talking about?""Miss Clonmell, miss--the young lady as have come to live here.""A young lady! To live here! But who is she, and when did she come, and why have I been told nothing about it?""She's sister to the Mr. Clonmell what was here last term, 'm, and she came unexpected like on Friday evening, while Mr. Bevan was at dinner. He didn't expect her any more than you, miss.""But what in the world has she come for? She can't stay here. Where is she?""I don't exactly know 'm," Ford answered, with demure enjoyment of the situation. "Mrs. Wentworth came directly after luncheon, 'm, and took her out. Miss Clonmell said as I was to ask you not to wait tea if you came before she got back, as she'll probably have hers with Mrs. Wentworth.""Wait tea!" Miss Foster repeated, in tones that expressed volumes of determination to do nothing of the kind. "This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of. What is she like?""Oh, a very nice young lady, 'm. No one could 'elp liking 'er. The 'ouse seems a different place since she come, so much livelier; and she sings and plays something beautiful----""I should think it does seem a different place," Miss Foster remarked grimly; "that horrible harp makes my drawing-room look like the deck of a penny steamer. It can't stay here, that's certain. However, I'll have tea now--I need it. Whenever Mr. Bevan comes in, Ford, ask him to be good enough to speak to me at once."Miss Foster sat in her accustomed chair and made tea. The tea was good and refreshing, but although she had purposely turned her back to the obnoxious musical instruments she felt uncomfortably conscious of their presence. There they were like a draught blowing down her back. A harp, too! In Miss Foster's mind harps were associated mainly with mendicity and the bars of public-houses. Not that she had the smallest personal knowledge of such objectionable places; but she was certain that the horrid people who frequented them played and listened to the harp. It was probably their favouri