"I shall do myself the honor of calling when my brother returns!" was the answer, with another stately salute—and the two ladies separated.
I dined in the housekeeper's room, and found myself treated with more than her usual respect by Mrs. Wilson. She even rebuked one of the men sharply, for presuming to make fun of the sermon. The man stared, and asked Mrs. Wilson if she were turning Methodist.
"Methodist or not, I will be mistress at my own table!" answered the housekeeper. "And I will have you to know that, John Davis."
The man answered sulkily that he meant no harm. It was no more than his betters did.
"Aye, you must all ape your betters, though they were riding posthaste to perdition!" said Mrs. Wilson.
And there the matter ended.
That evening, I was alone in our bed room. My lady had taken the little red parlor for her own use, so I had no other place. I was sitting by the open window trying to compose my spirits reading Mr. Law's "Serious Call," which was, and is, a great favorite of mine, till it grew too dark to read, when I began singing softly to myself my favorite song from the Messiah. I had not finished it when Amabel entered the room.
"All in the dark!" said she.
"I did not expect you so early," was my answer, "and the twilight is so sweet, I do not like to shut it out. But how did you contrive to escape so soon?"
"I was sent away in disgrace," was her reply. "My lady all but boxed my ears!"