“He is always about the place; he has nothing else to do.”
“Of course he has large estates.”
“They are not so very large, Aunt Grace.”
“Well, dear, that is a relative term, of course; but from your uncle's description, and to judge from your mother's letters, it must be a very large place. By the way, how does she manage her servants? She must have a large staff at Castle O'Shanaghgan.”
“I don't think we manage our servants particularly well,” said Nora. “It is true they all stay with us; but then we don't keep many.”
“How many, dear?”
“There's Pegeen—she is the parlor-maid—and there's the cook—we do change our cook sometimes, for mother is rather particular; then there is the woman who attends to the fowls, and the woman who does the washing, and—I think that is about all. Oh, there's the post-boy; perhaps you would consider him a servant, but I scarcely think he ought to be called one. We give him twopence a week for fetching the letters. He is a very good little boy. He stands on his head whenever he sees me; he is very fond of me, and that is the way he shows his affection. It would make you laugh, Aunt Grace, if you saw Michael standing on his head.”
“It would make me shudder, you mean,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “Really, Nora, your account of your mother's home is rather disparaging; two or three very rough servants, and no more. But I understood you lived in castle.”
“Oh, a castle may mean anything; but it is not fair for you and Uncle George to think we are rich, for we are very poor. And,” continued Nora, “for my part, I love to be poor.” She stood up abruptly. In her excitement all her bits of silk tumbled to the floor. “May I go out and have a run, Aunt Grace?” she said. “I feel quite stiff. I am not accustomed to being indoors for so long at a time.”
“You can go out, Nora, if you like,” said her aunt in a displeased tone; “but, first, have the goodness to pick up all those bits you have dropped.”