"It must never be called 'the Ghost Room' again,"—she said, with a reproachful gravity, which greatly disconcerted and overawed Mrs. Spruce—"otherwise it will have an evil reputation which it does not deserve. There is nothing ghostly or terrifying about it. It is a sacred room,—sacred to the memory of one of the dearest and best of men! It is wrong to let such a room be considered as haunted,—I shall sleep in it myself sometimes,—and I shall make it bright and pretty for visitors when they come. I would put a little child to sleep in it,—for my father was a good man, and nothing evil can ever be associated with him. Death is only dreadful to the ignorant and the wicked."
Mrs. Spruce wisely held her peace, and dutifully followed her new mistress to the morning-room, where she had to undergo what might be called quite a stiff examination regarding all the household and housekeeping matters. Armed with a fascinating little velvet-bound notebook and pencil, Maryllia put down all the names of the different servants, both indoor and outdoor (making a small private mark of her own against those who had served her father in any capacity, and those who were just new to the place), together with the amount of wages due every month to each,—she counted over all the fine house linen, much of which had been purchased for her mother's home-coming and had never been used;—she examined with all a connoisseur's admiration the almost priceless old china with which the Manor shelves, dressers and cupboards were crowded,—and finally after luncheon and an hour's deep cogitation by herself in the library, she wrote out in a round clerkly hand certain 'rules and regulations,' for the daily routine of her household, and handed the document to Mrs. Spruce,—much to that estimable dame's perturbation and astonishment.
"These are my hours, Spruce," she said—"And it will of course be your business to see that the work is done punctually and with proper method. There must be no waste or extravagance,—and you will bring me all the accounts every week, as I won't have bills running up longer than that period. I shall leave all the ordering in of provisions to you,—if it ever happens that you send something to table which I don't like, I will tell you, and the mistake need not occur again. Now is there anything else?"—and she paused meditatively, finger on lip, knitting her brows—"You see I've never done any housekeeping, but I've always had notions as to how I should do it if I ever got the chance to try, and I'm just beginning. I believe in method,—and I like everything that HAS a place to be in IN its place, and everything that HAS a time, to come up to its time. It saves ever so much worry and trouble! Now let me think!—oh yes!—I knew there was another matter. Please let the gardeners and outdoor men generally know that if they want to speak to me, they can always see me from ten to half-past every morning. And, by the way, Spruce, tell the maids to go about their work quietly,—there is nothing more objectionable than a noise and fuss in the house just because a room is being swept and turned out. I simply hate it! In the event of any quarrels or complaints, please refer them to me—and—and—" Here she paused again with a smile— "Yes! I think that's all—for the present! I haven't yet gone through the library or the picture-gallery;—however those rooms have nothing to do with the ordinary daily housekeeping,—if I find anything wanting to be done there, I'll send for you again. But that's about all now!"
Poor Mrs. Spruce curtseyed deferentially and tremulously. She was not going to have it all her own way as she had fondly imagined when she first saw the apparently child-like personality of her new lady. The child-like personality was merely the rose-flesh covering of a somewhat determined character.
"And anything I can do for you, Spruce, or for your husband," continued Maryllia, dropping her business-like tone for one of as coaxing a sweetness as ever Shakespeare's Juliet practised for the persuasion of her too tardy Nurse—"will be done with ever so much pleasure! You know that, don't you?" And she laid her pretty little hands on the worthy woman's portly shoulders—"You shall go out whenever you like—after work, of course!—duty first, pleasure second!—and you shall even grumble, if you feel like it,—and have your little naps when the midday meal is done with,—Aunt Emily's housekeeper in London used to have them, and she snored dreadfully! the second footman—QUITE a nice lad—used to tickle her nose with a straw! But I can't afford to keep a second footman—one is quite enough,—or a coachman, or a carriage;—besides, I would always rather ride than drive,—and my groom, Bennett, will only want a stable-boy to help him with Cleo and Daffodil. So I hope there'll be no one downstairs to tease you, Spruce dear, by tickling YOUR nose with a straw! Primmins looks much too staid and respectable to think of such a thing."
She laughed merrily,—and Mrs. Spruce for the life of her could not help laughing too. The picture of Primmins condescending to indulge in a game of 'nose and straw' was too grotesque to be considered with gravity.
"Well I never, Miss!" she ejaculated—"You do put things that funny!"
"Do I? I'm so glad!" said Maryllia demurely—"it's nice to be funny to other people, even if you're not funny to yourself! But I want you to understand from the first, Spruce, that everyone must feel happy and contented in my household. So if anything goes wrong, you must tell me, and I will try and set it right. Now I'm going for an hour's walk with Plato, and when I come in, and have had my tea, I'll visit the picture-gallery. I know all about it,—Uncle Fred told me,"—she paused, and her eyes darkened with a wistful and deepening gravity,—then she added gently—"I shall not want you there, Spruce,—I must be quite alone."
Mrs. Spruce again curtseyed humbly, and was about to withdraw, when
Maryllia called her back.
"What about the clergyman here, Mr. Walden?"—she asked—"Is he a nice man?—kind to the village people, I mean, and good to the poor?"