Joanna, bending over the fire, replied,—
“As for the mistress, she is a saint!”
Juliana cast a spiteful glance at her, and said with a little smile,—
“The Senhora Joanna says that as if other people were nothing but the dirt under one’s feet.”
“What other people?”
“I, and you, and every one.”
Joanna answered without looking around, while she went on moving the pots on the fire,—
“You will not find another like her, Senhora Juliana,—a lady who lets you do whatever you wish, and does your work herself! The other day she threw out the dirty water. She is a saint!”
The hostile tone of Joanna exasperated Juliana, but she controlled herself; notwithstanding her position in the house, she depended on the cook for her broths, her beefsteaks, and her dainties; she regarded her with the cowardly respect of weak constitutions for strong ones, and she responded with ambiguous accent,—
“It is her temper; she likes to scold, but it must be said of her that she is very orderly and fond of work. If she sees a speck of dust, she takes up the dust-brush. It is her disposition; I have known others like her;” and she pursed up her lips as she said it.