"What is?" asked the astonished Violet.

"That I have cleared the house of that intolerable woman!"

"The cook gone!" cried Violet, starting, so that her papers slid away, and Arthur shuffled them up in his hand in renewed confusion. "The cook really gone? Oh! I am so glad!"

"Capital!" cried Arthur. "There was John declaring you would be in despair to find your precious treasure gone."

"Oh! I never was more glad! Do tell me! Why did she go?"

"I had a skrimmage with her about some trout Fitzhugh sent, which I verily believe she ate herself."

"Changed with the fishmonger!"

"I dare say. She sent us in some good-for-nothing wretches, all mud, and vowed these were stale--then grew impertinent."

"And talked about the first families?"

"Exactly so, and when it came to telling me Mrs. Martindale was her mistress, I could stand no more. I paid her her wages, and recommended her to make herself scarce."

"When did it happen?"

"Rather more than a fortnight ago."

Violet laughed heartily. "O-ho! there"s the reason nurse scolds if I dare to ask to speak to the cook. And oh! how gravely Sarah said "yes, ma"am," to all my messages! How very funny! But how have we been living?

When I am having nice things all day long, and giving so much trouble!

Oh dear! How uncomfortable you must have been, and your brother too!"

"Am I not always telling you to the contrary? Sarah made everything look as usual, and I suspect Brown lent a helping hand. John said the coffee was made in some peculiar way Brown learnt in the East, and never practises unless John is very ill, or they are in some uncivilized place; but he told me to take no notice, lest Brown should think it infra dig."

"I"m afraid he thought this an uncivilized place. But what a woman Sarah is! She has all the work of the house, and yet she seems to me to be here as much as nurse!"

"She has got the work of ten horses in her, with the face of a death"s head, and the voice of a walking sepulchre!"

"But isn"t she a thorough good creature! I can"t think what will become of me without her! It will be like parting with a friend."

"What would you part with her for? I thought she was the sheet-anchor."

"That she is; but she won"t stay where there are children. She told me so long ago, and only stayed because I begged her for the present. She will go when I am well."

"Better give double wages to keep her," said Arthur.

"I"d do anything I could, but I"m afraid. I was quite dreading the getting about again, because I should have to lose Sarah, and to do something or other with that woman."

"What possessed you to keep her?"

"I wasn"t sure about her. Your aunt recommended her, and I thought you might not like--and at first I did not know what things ought to cost, nor how long they ought to last, and that was what I did sums for.

Then when I did prove it, I saw only dishonesty in the kitchen, and extravagance and mismanagement of my own."

"So the little goose sat and cried!"

"I could not help it. I felt I was doing wrong; that was the terrible part; and I am glad you know the worst. I have been very weak and silly, and wasted your money sadly, and I did not know how to help it; and that was what made me so miserable. And now, dear Arthur, only say you overlook my blunders, and indeed I"ll try to do better."

"Overlook! The only thing I don"t know how to forgive is your having made yourself so ill with this nonsense."

"I can"t be sorry for that," said Violet, smiling, though the tears came. "That has been almost all happiness. I shall have the heart to try more than ever--and I have some experience; and now that cook is gone, I really shall get on."

"Promise me you"ll never go bothering yourself for nothing another time.

Take it easy! That"s the only way to get through the world."

"Ah! I will never be so foolish again. I shall never be afraid to make you attend to my difficulties."

"Afraid! That was the silliest part of all! But here--will you have another hundred a year at once? and then there"ll be no trouble."

"Thank you, thank you! How kind of you! But do you know, I should like to try with what I have. I see it might be made to do, and I want to conquer the difficulty; if I can"t, I will ask you for more."

"Well, that may be best. I could hardly spare a hundred pounds without giving up one of the horses; and I want to see you riding again."

"Besides, this illness must have cost you a terrible quant.i.ty of money.

But I dare say I shall find the outgoings nothing to what the cook made them." And she was taking up the accounts, when he seized them, crumpling them in his hand. "Nonsense! Let them alone, or I shall put them in the fire at once."

"Oh, don"t do that, pray!" cried she, starting, "or I shall be ruined.

Oh, pray!"

"Very well;" and rising, and making a long arm, he deposited them on the top of a high wardrobe. "There"s the way to treat obstinate women. You may get them down when you can go after them--I shan"t."

"Ah! there"s baby awake!"

"So, I shall go after that book at the library; and then I"ve plenty to tell you of inquiries for Mrs. Martindale. Good-bye, again."

Violet received her babe into her arms with a languid long-drawn sigh, as of one wearied out with happiness. "That he should have heard my confession, and only pet me the more! Foolish, wasteful thing that I am.

Oh, babe! if I could only make you grow and thrive, no one would ever be so happy as your mamma."

Perhaps she thought so still more some hours later, when she awoke from a long sleep, and saw Arthur reading "Emilia Wyndham", and quite ready to defend his a.s.sertion that the wife broke open the desk with her head.

CHAPTER 3

But there was one fairy who was offended because she was not invited to the Christening.--MOTHER BUNCH

Theodora had spent the winter in trying not to think of her brother.

She read, she tried experiments, she taught at the school, she instructed the dumb boy, talked to the curate, and took her share of such county gaieties as were not beneath the house of Martindale; but at every tranquil moment came the thought, "What are Arthur and his wife doing!"

There were rumours of the general admiration of Mrs. Martindale, whence she deduced vanity and extravagance; but she heard nothing more till Jane Gardner, a correspondent, who persevered in spite of scanty and infrequent answers, mentioned her call on poor Mrs. Martindale, who, she said, looked sadly altered, unwell, and out of spirits. Georgina had tried to persuade her to come out, but without success; she ought to have some one with her, for she seemed to be a good deal alone, and no doubt it was trying; but, of course, she would soon have her mother with her.