The girl grumbled and assented a little sulkily, and Lydia had a feeling that she was going to lose a good servant. In this she was not mistaken.
Old Jaggs called at half-past nine that night, and was admitted by the maid, who stalked in front of him and opened his door.
"There's your room," she snapped, "and I'd rather have your room than your company."
"Would you, miss?" wheezed Jaggs, and Lydia, attracted by the sound of voices, came to the door and listened with some amusement.
"Lord, bless me life, it ain't a bad room, either. Put the light out, my dear, I don't like light. I like 'em dark, like them little cells in Holloway prison, where you were took two years ago for robbing your missus."
Lydia's smile left her face. She heard the girl gasp.
"You old liar!" she hissed.
"Lucy Jones you call yourself--you used to be Mary Welch in them days," chuckled old Jaggs.
"I'm not going to be insulted," almost screamed Lucy, though there was a note of fear in her strident voice. "I'm going to leave to-night."
"No you ain't, my dear," said old Jaggs complacently. "You're going to sleep here to-night, and you're going to leave in the morning. If you try to get out of that door before I let you, you'll be pinched."
"They've got nothing against me," the girl was betrayed into saying.
"False characters, my dear. Pretending to come from the agency, when you didn't. That's another crime. Lord bless your heart, I've got enough against you to put you in jail for a year."
Lydia came forward.
"What is this you're saying about my maid?"
"Good evening, ma'am."
The old man knuckled his forehead.
"I'm just having an argument with your young lady."
"Do you say she is a thief?"
"Of course she is, miss," said Jaggs scornfully. "You ask her!"
But Lucy had gone into her room, slammed the door and locked it.
The next morning when Lydia woke, the flat was empty, save for herself. But she had hardly finished dressing when there came a knock at the door, and a trim, fresh-looking country girl, with an expansive smile and a look of good cheer that warmed Lydia's heart, appeared.
"You're the lady that wants a maid, ma'am, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Lydia in surprise. "But who sent you?"
"I was telegraphed for yesterday, ma'am, from the country."