I will make my bed, and do out the room myself, if you will come and finish it off for me." "Oh, no, indeed, miss, you mustn't do that! Think what they'd say of you down stairs! They'd despise you downright!" "I shall do it, Jemima.

If they were servants of the right sort, I should like to have their good opinion, and they would think all the more of me for doing my share; as it is, I should count it a disgrace to care a straw, what they thought.

We must do our work, and not mind what people say." "Yes, miss, that's what my mother used to say to my father, when he wouldn't be reasonable.

But I must go, miss, or I shall catch it for gossiping with you--that's what _she'll_ call it." When Jemima was gone, Mary fell a-thinking afresh.

It was all very well, she said to herself, to talk about doing her work, but here she was with scarce a shadow of an idea what her work was! Had _any_ work been given her to do in this house?
Had she presumed in coming--anticipated the guidance of Providence, and was she therefore now where she had no right to be?
She could not tell; but, anyhow, here she was, and no one could be anywhere without the fact involving its own duty.