“Other folks can slice ham and boil cabbage. You’ve got no call to neglect your duty. I can tell you, Franna’s that shocked you don’t speak to the girl; and Turguia was saying only the other day, she didn’t believe in folks that pretended to care so much for their children, and let other folks run ’em into all sorts of troubles for want of looking after a bit. I’ll tell you, Aunt Isel—”
“Anania, I’ll tell you,” cried Isel, thoroughly put out, for she was hot and tired and not feeling strong, “I’ll tell you this once, you’re a regular plague and a mischief-maker. You’d make me quarrel with all the friends I have in the world, if I listened to you. Sit you down and rest, if you like to be peaceable; and if you don’t, just go home and give other folks a bit of rest for once in your life. I’m just worn out with you, and that’s the honest truth.”
“Well, to be sure!” gasped the porter’s wife, in high dudgeon and much amazement. “I never did—! Dear, dear, to think of it—how ungrateful folks can be! You give them the best advice, and try to help them all you can, and they turn on you like a dog for it! Very well, Aunt Isel; I’ll let you alone!—and if you don’t rue it one of these days, when your fine lady daughter-in-law has brought you down to beggary for want of a proper word, my name isn’t Anania—that’s all!”
“Oh, deary weary me!” moaned poor Isel, dropping herself on the form as if she could not stand for another minute. “If this ain’t a queer world, I just don’t know! Folks never let you have a shred of peace, and come and worrit you that bad till you scarce can tell whether you’re on your head or your heels, and you could almost find in your heart to wish ’em safe in Heaven, and then if they don’t set to work and abuse you like Noah’s wife (Note 1) if you don’t thank ’em for it! That girl Anania ’ll be the death of me one of these days, if she doesn’t mend her ways. Woe worth the day that Osbert brought her here to plague us!”
“I fancy he’d say Amen to that,” remarked Haimet.
“I heard him getting it pretty hot last night. But he takes it easier than you, Mother; however she goes on at him, he only whistles a tune. He has three tunes for her, and I always know how she’s getting on by the one I hear. So long as it’s only the Agnus, I dare lift the latch; but when it come to Salve Regina, things are going awkward.”
“I wish she wasn’t my niece, I do!” said poor Isel. “Well, folks, come and get your supper.”
Supper was over, and the trenchers scraped—for Isel lived in great gentility, seeing that she ate from wooden trenchers, and not on plates made of thick slices of bread—when a rap on the door heralded the visit of a very superior person. Long ago, when a young girl, Isel had been chamberer, or bower-woman, of a lady named Mildred de Hameldun; and she still received occasional visits from Mildred’s daughter, whose name was Aliz or Elise de Norton. Next to the Countess of Oxford and her two daughters, Aliz de Norton was the chief lady in the city. Her father, Sir Robert de Hameldun, had been Seneschal of the Castle, and her husband, Sir Ording de Norton, was now filling a similar position. Yet the lofty title of Lady was barely accorded to Aliz de Norton. At that time it was of extreme rarity; less used than in Saxon days, far less than at a subsequent date under the later Plantagenets. The only women who enjoyed it as of right were queens, wives of the king’s sons, countesses, and baronesses: for at this period, the sole titles known to the peerage were those of baron and earl. Duke was still a sovereign title, and entirely a foreign one. The epithet of Dame or Lady was also the prerogative of a few abbesses, who held the rank of baroness. Very commonly, however, it was applied to the daughters of the sovereign, to all abbesses, prioresses, and recluses, and to earls’ daughters; but this was a matter rather of courtesy than of right. Beyond the general epithet of “my Lord,” there was no definite title of address even for the monarch. The appropriation of such terms as Grace, Highness, Excellence, Majesty, or Serenity, belongs to a much later date. Sir, however, was always restricted to knights; and Dame was the most respectful form of address that could be offered to any woman, however exalted might be her rank. The knight was above the peer, even kings receiving additional honour from knighthood; but the equivalent title of Dame does not seem to have been regularly conferred on their wives till about 1230, though it might be given in some cases, as a matter of courtesy, at a rather earlier period.
Perceiving her exalted friend, Isel went forward as quickly as was in her, to receive her with all possible cordiality, and to usher her to the best place in the chimney-corner. Aliz greeted the family pleasantly, but with a shade of constraint towards their German guests. For a few minutes they talked conventional nothings, as is the custom of those who meet only occasionally. Then Aliz said—
“I came to-day, Isel, for two reasons. Have here the first: do you know of any vacant situation for a young woman?”