“I can’t think why a lady having beauty and wealth and rank should break her heart about any scamp of a man!  Why couldn’t she have purchased an estate with her money and settled down in Old England?  And if she must have married, why didn’t she marry the marquis?  Lack-a-daisy-me!  I wish she had never seen this young scamp!  She didn’t sleep the whole night!  I know it was after four o’clock in the morning that I dropped off, and the last thing I knew was trying to keep awake and listen to her tossing!  Well, whatever her appointment was this morning, she has missed it by a good hour and a half; that she has, and I’m glad of it.  Sleep is the best part of life, and there isn’t anything in this world worth waking up for, as I’ve found out yet!  Let her sleep on; she’s dead for it, anyway.  So let her sleep on, and I’ll take the blame.”

And with this the judicious Phoebe carefully drew the bed curtains again, closed the window shutters, and withdrew to her own room to complete her toilet.

After a little while Phoebe went below to get her breakfast, which she always took in the housekeeper’s room.

Mrs. Spicer had breakfasted long before, and so she met the girl with a sharp rebuke for keeping late hours.

“Pray,” she inquired mockingly, “is it the fashion in the country you came from for servants to be abed until ten o’clock in the morning?”

“That depends on circumstances,” answered Phoebe, with assumed gravity; “the servants of noble families like the Countess of Hurstmonceux’s lie late; but the servants of common folks like yours have to get up early.”

“Like ours, you impudent minx!  I’ll have you to know that our family—­the Brudenells—­are as good as any other family in the world!  But it is not the custom here for the maids to lie in bed until all hours of the morning, and that you’ll find!” cried Mrs. Spicer in a passion.

“You’ll find yourself discharged if you go on in this way!  You seem to forget that my lady is the mistress of this house,” said Phoebe, seating herself at the table, which was covered with the litter of the housekeeper’s breakfast.

Before the housekeeper had time to reply, or the lady’s maid had time to pour out her cold coffee, the drawing-room bell rang.  And soon after Jovial entered to say that Mrs. Brudenell required the attendance of Phoebe.  The girl rose at once and went up to the drawing room.

“How is the countess this morning?” was the first question of Mrs. Brudenell.

“My lady is sleeping; she has had a bad night; I thought it best not to awake her,” answered Phoebe.

“You did right.  Let me know when she is awake and ready to receive me.  You may go now.”

Phoebe returned to her cold and comfortless breakfast, and had but just finished it when a second bell rang.  This time it was her mistress, and she hurried to answer it.

The countess was already in her dressing-gown and slippers, seated before her toilet-table, and holding a watch in her hand.