“I am afraid she is very angry,” Florence answered, laughing, for the pretty woman before her did not seem like a stranger. “Do you want her again?”
“Oh no!” and Mrs. North shook her head emphatically. “She would not come, I know; besides, it would be impossible: she led us a terrible life. But we loved her, and wanted just to make it up with her again. I think we could have put up with anything if she had not quarrelled with the servants.”
“I was afraid it was that,” Florence answered.
“Oh yes!” sighed Mrs. North; “she was horribly autocratic with them—‘autocratic’ is her own word. At last she quarrelled with Hetty, and wanted me to send her away—to send away Hetty, who is a born treasure, and cooks like an angel. It would have broken our hearts—a woman who sends up a dinner like a charm; we couldn’t let her go, it was impossible, and the old lady fled.”
“I am very sorry. You were so kind to her; she always said that.”
“I loved her,” Mrs. North answered, with a little sigh. “She was so like my dear dead mother grown old—that was the secret of her attraction for us; but she ruled us with a rod of iron that grew more and more unyielding every day. And yet she was very kind. She was always giving us presents.”
“Oh yes,” Florence said, in a despairing voice.
“We have had the bills for them since,” Mrs. North went on, with a comical air. “She used to say that I was very frivolous,” she added suddenly. “She thought it wicked of me to enjoy life while my husband was away. But he is old, Mrs. Hibbert; one may have an affection for an old husband, but one can’t be in love with him.”
“If she were very nice she would not have made that remark to me, whom she never saw before,” Florence thought, beginning to dislike her a little.
“Of course I am sorry he is away,” Mrs. North said, as if she perfectly understood the impression she was making; “he is coming back now. He has telegraphed suddenly.” There was something like fright in her voice as she said it. “I did not expect him; but he is coming almost directly. I suppose I ought to be very glad,” she added, with a ghostly smile. “I am, of course; but I am surprised at his sudden return. I took Mrs. Baines because he wished me to have an old lady about me; but I wanted my own way. I liked her to have hers when it amused me to see her have it, when it didn’t I wanted to have mine.” Mrs. North’s whole expression had altered again, and she looked up with two blue eyes that fascinated and repelled, and laughed a merry, uncontrolled laugh like a child’s. “Oh, she was very droll.”