Lizzie, following him, arrived as one of the two female domestics of the Fellowship Porters arranged on the snug little table by the bar fire, Miss Potterson's supper of hot sausages and mashed potatoes.
'Come in and sit ye down, girl,' said Miss Abbey.

'Can you eat a bit ?' 'No thank you, Miss.

I have had my supper.' 'I have had mine too, I think,' said Miss Abbey, pushing away the untasted dish, 'and more than enough of it.

I am put out, Lizzie.' 'I am very sorry for it, Miss.' 'Then why, in the name of Goodness,' quoth Miss Abbey, sharply, 'do you do it ?' 'I do it, Miss!' 'There, there.

Don't look astonished.