“The funeral will be to-morrow at two o’clock; perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming?”

“If you would like me to attend, I will do so.”

“I don’t know why it is, but seems to me it would be a comfort to have you.  Quality always could touch my heart better’n my own kind.”

“You may be reckoned among that class in the next world.”

She stood in the doorway, her eyes turned wistfully towards the setting sun.  “I hain’t thought much about that world.  I know it’s a mistake to live as I’ve done.”

I wished so much I could recommend her to a better way of life; but remembering that I too was living only for this world, I could say nothing.

Pressing her hand gently I turned to leave, when I saw Esmerelda coming out of the door after me.

The rigid form I had looked at and Mrs. Blake’s words had softened my heart; so I tried once more to chat pleasantly with my escort; but probably she had not got the same lesson as I, for she put on as many airs as before.  When I met Mrs. Flaxman I inquired what Esmerelda’s position was in the household.  To my astonishment she said: 

“She is the chambermaid.”

“But is she a lady?”

“Every one that can dress becomingly claims that title with us; I presume Esmerelda with the rest.”

“But her mother?” I left the sentence unfinished.

“Lives on Mill Road and takes in washing.”

“Don’t you think it is wiser to keep servants in their proper place as they do in Europe?  One is not in danger there of mistaking maid for mistress.”

“Ah, that is a problem for wiser heads than ours to solve.  Each system has its grievances; if human nature had not suffered so severely from the original transgression I should favor the American plan.”

“But it has fallen, and requires generations of training to fit one for such assumption of dignity.”

“Even so, we come on debatable ground.  Where do you find longer lines of trained generations than in those Royal families that cost you so much to support, and what do many of them amount to?  How many of them would it take to make one Lincoln?  He was a peasant’s son, as they reckon rank.”

“But there are not many Lincolns; and I fear we can find a good many Esmereldas.”

“She is a very good chambermaid.  What fault do you find with her?”

I smiled, though utterly discomfited.

“A fault one cannot easily forgive.  She impresses me with her own superiority, especially in the matter of dress.”

“Yes, our shop and servant girls are usually good artists in the matter of personal attire; but I usually find the really clever ones are the poorest dressers.”

“Is not that the case with others than they?  Persons who have more enduring objects of contemplation than personal attire do not bestow enough time on how they shall robe themselves to excel in dressing artistically.”