My husband had left his cure in the hands of Sir David Dean, a good and religious priest, but one as absentminded and indifferent to his own comfort as any man I ever saw. He had lived alone in the vicarage all these years without a housekeeper, save that an old woman, living in one of the alms-cottages by the church-gate, now and then came in and scratched about a bit like a hen in a straw-yard. Any one who knows what men are when left to themselves, may guess what condition matters were in after seven or eight years of such housekeeping. The rushes on the floor must have been at least three months old, and showed such a state of things when we swept them out, that Mary Thornton sat down on the doorstep and cried.
"Come, come, Mary; this will never do," said I, though I could have cried myself, easily enough. "Think if Madame Bogardus should come in and find us in all this mess."
Mary Thornton laughed and then cried again, and having so relieved her mind, went to work like a heroine. How we two women slaved that day, sweeping and scouring, and shaking out, while the village maid, whom Walter had sent in, did little more than stare in amazement, and stand about in the way. Thanks to my uncle and Garrett, we had enough ready money, so Walter rode over to Biddeford and brought back a piece of moreen and another of green baize.
When we had the house decently clean and sweet, Mary and I set ourselves down to the making of some hangings and curtains, and while we were thus busy, one of our parishioners, a farmer's wife, Dame Yeo, came in, bringing a pot of cream and a basket of new laid eggs. I must say our people were very good to us from the first, save two or three families, who, holding to the old ways, looked upon Walter and myself as altogether profane and sacrilegious persons.
"Dear me!" exclaimed the good woman, in surprise. "Well, you do look as neat as any daisy. But, my dear soul, what be you a-doin' now. Making of hangings, I declare. Why thou'lt never get through all that by thyself, madam."
"Oh, you don't know how much I can do," I answered.
"I see well, madam, that you are a good housewife," answered Dame Yeo, "but yet you should have more help. There is a very decent body living alone in a cottage down to our place who has skill with the needle. May be you saw her in church—a tall woman in black, a-sitting on one of the stone benches. Folks say she has been a nun, and some hint that she knows more than she should, but I believe she is a good woman for all that."
"I noticed her, and wondered who and what she was," said I. "Do you think, dame, she would come and help us?"
"I dare say she would, and I will ask her when I go home. But, madam, there is good news for you. Our young squire and his lady have returned to the manor house, and 'tis said they mean to live there, or at least, to abide some time."
"Who are they?" I asked. "You know I am a stranger here."