Mrs. Crane made no complaint; but it was easy to see she didn't like the arrangement. She was tall and stout, and she commonly wore black silk, with a pile of red ribbons on her head. She moved about in a very slow dignified sort of way, and she had a pair of cold eyes which made me feel uncomfortable whenever she fixed them on me, which was pretty often. I dare say it was a bore to have a strange boy set down at her table: though I can say one thing for myself, and that is, that I knew how to behave there, thanks to my mother, who'd always been so particular to teach us nice ways, and to cure us of ugly tricks. Everybody knew that if Mr. Laurence said a thing he meant it. Mrs. Crane was not obliged to stay, but if she stayed she had to do what Mr. Laurence chose, which was only fair and just, seeing she received his money, and ate his food, and was sheltered by his roof. She was much too wise to want to leave, and so she gave in; but all the same I could feel I wasn't welcome.
There were no indoor men-servants, for Mr. Laurence disliked the bother of them. The maids could all be under Mrs. Crane, but a man he would have had to manage himself. As it was, he just gave all his orders to the housekeeper, and held her responsible for what went wrong.
But with me he made a difference, having me with him, and giving me his orders direct from the first, which Mrs. Crane objected to.
I suppose I was in a rather difficult position—difficult because it was uncertain. I was not exactly one thing or the other—neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. I had to make my own standing as it were, and this could not be an easy matter for a boy of fifteen, brought up hitherto in a busy crowded little home, where all were on a level, and all knew and loved the rest.
After tea with Mrs. Crane—and a silent tea it was, scarcely a word passing between us—I was sent for to the study, where Mr. Laurence commonly sat. It opened out of the great library, which was lined with books; and the museum, a biggish room, full of all sorts of curiosities, was on the other side of the library. The dining-room was beyond the hall, and so was the drawing-room, not often used. The little observatory was up at the top of the house.
Mr. Laurence was at his writing-table when I came in, and another table in the bow window had microscopes on it, under glass cases. He looked up and said—
"How do you do, Miles? Had your tea?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Ready for work?"
I said "Yes" again.