"Good-night, Britta!" said Thelma kindly. "You must not sit up for me.
You will be tired."
Britta smiled--it was evident she meant to outwatch the stars, if
necessary, rather than allow her mistress to be unattended on her
return. But she said nothing--she waited at the door while Philip
assisted his wife into the carriage--and still stood musingly under the
wide portico, after they had driven away.
"Hadn't you better come in, Miss Britta?" said the butler
respectfully,--he had a great regard for her ladyship's little maid.
Britta, recalled to herself, started, turned, and re-entered the hall.
"There will be many fine folks there to-night, I suppose?" she asked.
The butler rubbed his nose perplexedly. "Fine folks at Winsleigh House?
Well, as far as clothes go, I dare say there will. But there'll be no
one like her ladyship--no one!" And he shook his grey head emphatically.
"Of course not!" said Britta, with a sort of triumphant defiance. "We
know that very well, Morris! There's no one like her ladyship anywhere
in the wide world! But I tell you what--I think a great many people will
be jealous of her.
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