"If you please, sir, Mrs. Spruce."
His genial face fell a little, and he heaved a short sigh.
"Mrs. Spruce? Oh, Lord!—I mean, very well! Show her in, Hester. You are sure she wants to see me? Or is it her girl Kitty she is after?"
"She didn't mention Kitty, sir," replied Hester demurely; "She said she wished to see you very particular."
"All right! Show her into my study, and afterwards just go round to the orchard and tell Bainton I will see him when he's had his dinner. I know I sha'n't get off under an hour at least!"
He sighed again, then smiled, and entered the house, Nebbie sedately following. Arrived in his own quiet sanctum, he took off his soft slouched hat and seated himself at his desk with a composed air of patient attention, as the door was opened to admit a matronly- looking lady with a round and florid countenance, clad in a voluminous black gown, and wearing a somewhat aggressive black bonnet, 'tipped' well forward, under which her grey hair was plastered so far back as to be scarcely visible. There was a certain aggrieved dignity about her, and a generally superior tone of self- consciousness even in the curtsey which she dropped respectfully, as she returned Walden's kindly nod and glance.
"Good morning, Mrs. Spruce!"
"Good morning, sir! I trust I see you well, sir?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Spruce, I am very well."
"Which is a mercy indeed!" said Mrs. Spruce fervently; "For we never knows from one day to another whether we may be sound or crippled, considering the diseases which now flies in the air with the dust in the common road, as the papers tell us,—and dust is a thing we cannot prevent, do what we may, for the dust is there by the will of the Almighty, Who made us all out of it."