Ellen Whitelaw and Mrs.Tadman went down to the ground floor by another staircase leading directly to the kitchen.

The room looked comfortable enough, and the two servant-girls were sitting at a table near the fire.

One was a strapping rosy-cheeked country girl, who did all the household work; the other an overgrown clumsy-looking girl, hired straight from the workhouse by Mr.
Whitelaw, from economical motives; a stolid-looking girl, whose intellect was of the lowest order; a mere zoophyte girl, one would say--something between the vegetable and animal creation.
This one, whose name was Sarah Batts, was chiefly employed in the poultry-yard and dairy.

She had a broad brawny hand, which was useful for the milking of cows, and showed some kind of intelligence in the management of young chickens and the treatment of refractory hens.
Martha Holden, the house-servant, was busy making herself a cap as her mistress came into the kitchen, droning some Hampshire ballad by way of accompaniment to her work.

Sarah Batts was seated in an attitude of luxurious repose, with her arms folded, and her feet on the fender.
"Was it either of you girls that screamed just now ?" Ellen asked anxiously.
"Screamed, ma'am! no, indeed," Martha Holden answered, with an air of perfect good faith.