There was a reason for my being doomed to the companionship of my grandmother, and for my being made her victim as it were. Our family circle comprised five individuals: my grandmother, my father and mother, myself, and a baby-brother. My parents had, through no fault of their own, drifted into that struggling-genteel class of persons whose means never quite come up to their efforts to make an appearance. We had been a little better off once upon a time, but unfortunately my father's health had failed him, and at the period of which I am writing he was confined to his bed, unable to work. My mother, what with her anxiety and her ignorance of the world, was to a certain extent helpless. Therefore, when my grandmother proposed to come and live with us, and bring her servant, and pay so much a week for board and lodging, her offer was gladly accepted. It was a current belief that my grandmother had a 'long stocking' somewhere, with plenty of money in it, and to this long stocking may be attributed much of my unhappiness at that time. For it had come to be recognised that I was to be my grandmother's heir, and that her long stocking would descend to me. It was, perhaps, regarded as a fair arrangement that, as my grandmother's property was to be mine when she was dead, I was to be my grandmother's property while she was alive; and I have no doubt that care was taken that her whims with respect to me should be carefully attended to, so that my inheritance might not be jeopardised. My mother did not know that I was unhappy; I was as a child somewhat secretive by nature, and I kept my thoughts and feelings much to myself. Besides, I had an intuitive perception of the state of affairs at home, and I felt that if I offended my grandmother my parents might suffer.
[CHAPTER II.]
I AM FRIGHTENED OF MY SHADOW.
I have already mentioned the name of the servant whom my grandmother brought with her to our house; it was Jane Painter. She had been with my grandmother for many years, from girlhood I believe, and she was now about thirty years of age. In appearance she was a thin, sharp-featured, pale-faced woman; in manners she was a viciously-minded creature, fond of pinching children on the sly in tender places, assuming the while, to deceive observers, an expression of amiability, which intensified the malignity of her conduct. From the moment she entered our house she became the enemy of every person in it, and waged open and secret war upon all of us. Her service with my grandmother had been a very easy one, but things were different when her mistress changed her residence. She had to do double the work she had been accustomed to, and as we were the direct cause of this, she was not slow in showing resentment. My mother, patient as she always was, made light of the woman's infirmities of temper, believing that she was necessary to my grandmother; Jane Painter, however, declined to accept the olive-branch which my mother held out to her, and would certainly not have remained in the house but for one inducement. This was made clear to us a very few days after the change. My mother had occasion to remonstrate with her for some piece of impertinence, and Jane Painter ran into my grandmother's room in a fury, and demanded to know if she was to be treated like a galley-slave. My mother stood quietly by, listening to the servant's complainings. Said my grandmother,
'You must do what my daughter desires you to do, Jane. I told her you would help her in the house.'
'I won't be ordered about as if I was a bit of dirt!' exclaimed Jane Painter, gasping.
'O Jane!' remonstrated my mother.
'Don't O Jane me!' and then followed the unreasoning argument. 'I'm flesh and blood the same as you are!'
'Jane,' said my grandmother, 'I mustn't be worried; my nerves won't stand it. I sha'n't be here long, and you know what I have promised you.'
'Whose servant am I--yours or hers?'