Mrs. Labadie was head nurse as well as being wife to the King’s French valet.  She was a kindly, portly Englishwoman, who seemed wrapped up in her charge, and she greeted her new subordinate in a friendly way, which, however, seemed strange in one who at home would have been of an inferior degree, expressed hopes of her steadiness and discretion, and called to Miss Dunord to show Miss Woodford her chamber.  The abbreviation Miss sounded familiar and unsuitable, but it had just come into use for younger spinsters, though officially they were still termed Mistress.

Mistress or Miss Dunord was sallow and gray-eyed, somewhat older than Anne, and looking thoroughly French, though her English was perfect.  She was entirely dressed in blue and white, and had a rosary and cross at her girdle.  “This way,” she said, tripping up a steep wooden stair.  “We sleep above.  ’Tis a huge, awkward place.  Her Majesty calls it the biggest and most uncomfortable palace she ever was in.”

Opening a heavy door, she showed a room of considerable size, hung with faded frayed tapestry, and containing two huge bedsteads, with four heavy posts, and canopies of wood, as near boxes as could well be.  Privacy was a luxury not ordinarily coveted, and the arrangement did not surprise Anne, though she could have wished that on that summer day curtains and tapestry had been less fusty.  Two young women were busy over a dress spread on one of the beds, and with French ease and grace the guide said, “Here is our new colleague, Miss Jacobina Woodford.  Let me present Miss Hester Bridgeman and Miss Jane Humphreys.”

“Miss Woodford is welcome,” said Miss Bridgeman, a keen, brown, lively, somewhat anxious-looking person, courtesying and holding out her hand, and her example was followed by Jane Humphreys, a stout, rosy, commonplace girl.

“Oh!  I am glad,” this last cried.  “Now I shall have a bedfellow.”

This Anne was the less sorry for, as she saw that the bed of the other two was furnished with a holy water stoup and a little shrine with a waxen Madonna.  There was only one looking-glass among the four, and not much apparatus either for washing or the toilet, but Miss Bridgeman believed that they would soon go to Richmond, where things would be more comfortable.  Then she turned to consult Miss Dunord on her endeavour to improve the trimmings of a dress of Miss Humphreys.

“Yes, I know you are always in Our Lady’s colours, Pauline, but you have a pretty taste, and can convince Jane that rose colour and scarlet cannot go together.”

“My father chose the ribbons,” said Jane, as if that were unanswerable.

“City taste,” said Miss Bridgeman.

“They are pretty, very pretty with anything else,” observed Pauline, with more tact.  “See, now, with your white embroidered petticoat and the gray train they are ravishing—­and the scarlet coat will enliven the black.”

There was further a little murmur about what a Mr. Hopkins admired, but it was lost in the arrival of Miss Woodford’s mails.