CHAPTER XXII
THE VOICES IN THE WOOD
Lydia had not been mistaken in her premonition of Paul’s attitude toward the new maid. He found her quite unendurable, but the direful stories told by their Bellevue acquaintances about the literal impossibility of keeping servants during the hot season induced him to postpone his wrath against the awkward, irreverent, too familiar Irishwoman until after Lydia should feel more herself. Paul’s wrath lost nothing by keeping.
To Lydia, on the contrary, Anastasia’s loyalty and devotion were inexpressibly comforting during the trying days of that summer. Her servant’s loving heart radiated warmth and cheer throughout all her life. One day, when her mother protested against ’Stashie’s habit of familiar conversation with the family (they had all soon adopted the Irish diminutive of her name), Lydia said: “I can not be too thankful for ’Stashie’s love and kindness.”
Mrs. Emery was outraged. “Good gracious, Lydia! What things you do say.”
“Why not? Because she hasn’t been to college? Neither have I. She’s as well educated as I am, and a great deal better woman.”
“Why, what are you talking about? She can’t read!”
“I don’t,” said Lydia. “That’s worse.”
Her mother turned the conversation, thinking she would be glad when this period of high-strung nerves and fancies should be over. She told Dr. Melton that it seemed to her that “Lydia took it very hard,” and she supposed they couldn’t expect her to be herself until after September.