She was even foolish enough to believe that that Father both knew and cared that she was hungry and cold and wearily uncomfortable; and thence she was weak enough to take the hunger and cold and discomfort as mere passing trifles, which could not last a moment longer than they ought.

From her sore-tried endeavors after patience, had grown the power of active waiting--and a genuinely waiting child is one of the loveliest sights the earth has to show.
This was not the reception she had pictured to herself, as the train came rushing from Testbridge to London; she had not, indeed, imagined a warm one, but she had not expected to be forgotten--for so she interpreted her abandonment in the hall, which seemed to grow colder every minute.

She saw no means of reminding the household of her neglected presence, and indeed would rather have remained where she was till the morning than encounter the growing familiarity of the man who had admitted her.

She did think once--if Mrs.Redmain were to hear of her reception, how she would resent it! and would have found it difficult to believe how far people like her are from troubling themselves about the behavior of their servants to other people; for they have no idea of an obligation to rule their own house, neither seem to have a notion of being accountable for what goes on in it.
She had grown very weary, and began to long for a floor on which she might stretch herself; there was not a sound in the house but the ticking of a clock somewhere; and she was now wondering whether everybody had gone to bed, when she heard a step approaching, and presently Castle, who was the only man at home, stood up before her, and, with the ease of perfect self-satisfaction, and as if there was nothing in the neglect of her but the custom of the house to cool people well in the hall before admitting them to its penetralia, said, "Step this way--miss"; the last word added after a pause of pretended hesitation, for the man had taken his cue from the housekeeper.
Mary rose, and followed him to the basement story, into a comfortable room, where sat Mrs.Perkin, embroidering large sunflowers on a piece of coarse stuff.

She was _artistic_, and despised the whole style of the house.
"You may sit down," she said, and pointed to a chair near the door.
Mary, not a little amused, for all her discomfort, did as she was permitted, and awaited what should come next.
"What part of the country are you from ?" asked Mrs.Perkin, with her usual diagonal upward toss of the chin, but without lifting her eyes from her work.
"From Testbridge," answered Mary.
"The servants in this house are in the habit of saying _ma'am_ to their superiors: it is required of them," remarked Mrs.Perkin.But, although her tone was one of rebuke, she said the words lightly, tossed the last of them off, indeed, almost playfully, as if the lesson was meant for one who could hardly have been expected to know better.