It was a very small one, scarcely more than holding the two beds.

Having lighted the gas, the cook left her; and Mary, noting that one of the beds was not made up, was glad to throw herself upon it.

Covering herself with her cloak, her traveling-rug, and the woolen counterpane, she was soon fast asleep.
She was roused by a cry, half of terror, half of surprise.

There stood the second housemaid, who, having been told nothing of her room-fellow, stared and gasped.
"I am sorry to have startled you," said Mary, who had half risen, leaning on her elbow.

"They ought to have told you there was a stranger in your room." The girl was not long from the country, and, in the midst of the worst vulgarity in the world, namely, among the servants of the selfish, her manners had not yet ceased to be simple.