“I never heard of him.”
“He’s marrying a young girl quite in my own station of life—one that was riz from the cottage to the governess-ship, and from the governess-ship to the ducal chair. My head is full of Her Grace, ma’am, and you’ll excuse me if I didn’t rightly know to whom I had the honor of talking. I’ll do what I can. And perhaps you’d like to borrow one of my dip candles for the present night.”
“I should very much,” said Miss Tredgold. “And please understand, Betty—I think you said your name was Betty—please understand that if you are on my side I shall be on your side. I have come here meaning to stay, and in future there will be a complete change in this establishment. You will receive good wages, paid on the day they are due. There will be plenty of money and plenty of food in the house, and the cook who pleases me stays, and the cook who displeases me goes. You understand?”
“Sakes!” muttered Betty, “it’s nearly as exciting as the doocal romance.—Well, ma’am, I’m of your way of thinking; and here’s your candle.”
CHAPTER V.
IN THE STUDY.
Miss Tredgold was the sort of woman who never let the grass grow under her feet. She felt, therefore, altogether out of place at The Dales, for at The Dales there was time for everything. “Time enough” was the motto of the establishment: time enough for breakfast, time enough for dinner, time enough for supper, time enough for bed, time enough for getting up, time enough for mending torn garments; surely, above all things, time enough for learning. To judge by the manner in which the family at The Dales went on, life was to last for ever and a day. They never hurried; they put things off when it pleased them; they stopped in the middle of one pursuit and turned to something else when the fancy took them; they were unruffled by the worries of life; they were, on the whole, gay, daring, indifferent. There was no money—or very little—for the future of these girls; they were absolutely uneducated; they were all but unclothed, and their food was poor and often insufficient. Nevertheless they were fairly happy. “Let well alone” was also their motto. “Never may care” was another. As to the rush and toil and strain of modern life, they could not even comprehend it. The idea of not being able to put off an engagement for a week, a month, or a year seemed to them too extraordinary to be believed. They were too young, too healthy, too happy to need to kill time; for time presented itself to them with an agreeable face, and the hours were never too long.
But although they were so indifferent to weighty matters, they had their own enthusiasms, and in their idle way they were busy always and forever. To have, therefore, a person like Aunt Sophia put suddenly into the middle of their gay and butterfly lives was something which was enough to madden the eight healthy girls who lived at The Dales. Aunt Sophia was, in their opinion, all crotchets, all nervousness, all fads. She had no tact whatsoever; at least, such was their first opinion of her. She put her foot down on this little crotchet, and pressed this passing desire out of sight. She brought new rules of life into their everyday existence, and, what is more, she insisted on being obeyed. With all their cleverness they were not half so clever as Aunt Sophia; they were no match for this good lady, who was still young at heart, who had been highly educated, who was full of enthusiasm, full of method, and full of determination. Aunt Sophia brought two very strong essentials with her to The Dales, and there was certainly little chance of the girls getting the victory over her. One thing which she brought was determination, joined to authority; the other thing was money. With these two weapons in her hand, what chance had the girls?
It might have been supposed that Miss Tredgold had done enough on the first night of her arrival. She had to a great extent vanquished the cook; and she had, further, told Verena and Pauline what lay before them. Surely she might have been contented, and have taken her dip candle in its tin candlestick and retired to her own room. But that was not Aunt Sophia’s way. She discovered a light stealing from under another door, and she made for that door.