"Have you a good housekeeper?" she asked, and my father answered:
"Mrs. Eastwood has been here over fifty years, I believe."
"Ah!" said Miss Reinhart, "that is too long; those very old housekeepers are faithful, and all that kind of thing, but they are seldom of much use. If everything does not go on as you wish in this unfortunate state of things, rely upon it that is what is wrong. You should pension this good Mrs. Eastwood off, and get some one young and active, with a thorough knowledge of her business."
"We will talk about it later on," he said. "I have no doubt but that you are quite right."
She looked up into his face with tender anxiety; I saw the look, and could have killed her for it.
"You know that I am devoted to your interests." she said. "I will cheerfully and gladly do everything and anything I can," she said, "to help you. You know you may command my services when and how you will."
She spoke with the air of a grandduchess offering to obtain court patronage, and my father made her a low, sweeping bow.
Who was she, that she should talk to my father of "unfortunate circumstances," and of her devotion to him? As for things going wrong, it was not true—my mother, from her sofa, ordered the household, and I knew there was nothing wrong.
When my father saw the angry, pained expression on my face, an idea seemed to occur to him. He called me to his side, and whispered to me:
"You may run away and play, darling; and mind, Laura, you must never repeat one word of what you hear to your mother; it would not do to trouble her when little things go wrong."