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Updated: June 29, 2025
"It is: that you should take her part in the way you do, Montague," retorted his wife. "I'm sorry if you're upset," her husband replied. "But I knew Miss Keeves as a little girl, when she was always laughin' and happy. It's all very, very sad." Mrs Devitt moved to a window, where she stood staring out at the foliage which, just now, was looking self-conscious in its new finery.
"Mrs Devitt?" "Noa. Her." "The housekeeper?" "Noa. The trap. Mebbe your eyes hain't so 'peart' as mine." The grating of wheels called her attention to the fact that a smart, yellow-wheeled dogcart had been driven into the station yard by a man in livery. "Be you Miss Keeves, miss?" asked the servant. "Yes." "Then you're for Melkbridge House. Please get in, miss."
Her suspense of mind was such that it seemed long hours before she knocked at the blistered door in the Blomfield Road where Miss Nippett lived. Miss Nippett was in, she learned from the red-nosed, chilblain-fingered slut who opened the door. "What nyme?" "Mrs Kenrick, who was Miss Keeves," replied Mavis. "Will you go up?" said the slut when, a few minutes later, she came downstairs.
"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee. Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said: "Call him what you like, Amelia. It's only the Miss Mees who're so particular." "Dear gentleman," continued Amelia. "Next to being always with you, miss, I should like to have been with 'im."
When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and Mavis her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door. "I live in the 'Bush': where do you?" asked Miss Nippett of Mavis. "Kiva Road, Hammersmith." "Then we go different ways. Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss Keeves." Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night.
Windebank would have been flattered could he have known of Mavis's consideration for his pocket. He and the girl talked when the attendants were out of the way, to stop conversing when they were immediately about them; the two would resume where they had left off, directly they were sure of not being overheard. "Just imagine, if you were little Mavis Keeves grown up," began Windebank.
As she stood in the shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to stare continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled, when a message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs, Mr Orgles would see her.
Mavis did not think that she would. "Or, if you want anything very badly, I might get you into a house of business." "Do you mean a shop?" asked Mavis. "A big one where they employ hundreds," said Goss apologetically. "It's awfully kind of you. I'll come to you if I really want anything badly." "Thank you, Miss Keeves. Good night." "Good night. Good night, Bella."
When afterwards I thought of turning it to some profit, I went to it, and cut it from its stem; and I made of it seven vats, and seven keeves, and seven stans, and seven churns, and seven pitchers, and seven milans, and seven medars, with hoops for all. I remained so with my yew vessels until their hoops all fell off from decay and old age.
"You must," commanded Miss Allen under her breath. "Keeves might hear." "What if she does! As likely as not she herself's in the way," said Miss Potter. Mavis, who had been trying not to listen to the previous conversation, felt both hot and cold at the same time. The blood rushed to her head. The next moment she sprang out of bed.
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