His morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to Mary
Wells's gossip. He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappoint
him. She never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies or
exaggerations. She was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits,
and greeted him thus: "What d'ye think? I'm riz! Mrs. Eden, that
dresses my lady's hair, she took ill yesterday, and I told the
housekeeper I was used to dress hair, and she told my lady. If you
didn't please our Rhoda at that, 'twas as much as your life was worth.
You mustn't be thinking of your young man with her hair in your hand,
or she'd rouse you with a good crack on the crown with a hair-brush. So
I dressed my lady's hair, and handled it like old chaney; by the same
token, she is so pleased with me you can't think. She is a real lady;
not like our Rhoda. Speaks as civil to me as if I was one of her own
sort; and, says she, 'I should like to have you about me, if I might.'
I had it on my tongue to tell her she was mistress; but I was a little
skeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me about her; I
see it in her eye."
Bassett was delighted at this news, but he did not speak his mind all
at once; the time was not come. He let the gypsy rattle on, and bided
his time.
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