CHAPTER II. THE ATTIC
The maid sat in the kitchen, wondering why Miss Thorne did not come down. It was almost seven o'clock, and Miss Hathaway's breakfast hour was half past six. Hepsey did not frame the thought, but she had a vague impression that the guest was lazy.
Yet she was grateful for the new interest which had come into her monotonous life. Affairs moved like clock work at Miss Hathaway's—breakfast at half past six, dinner at one, and supper at half past five. Each day was also set apart by its regular duties, from the washing on Monday to the baking on Saturday.
Now it was possible that there might be a change. Miss Thorne seemed fully capable of setting the house topsy-turvy—and Miss Hathaway's last injunction had been: “Now, Hepsey, you mind Miss Thorne. If I hear that you
