"Can't tell," said Clam, — "nothin' like yours, Miss 'Lizabeth, — I take a notion to wish he was here, once in a while — it wouldn't do some folks no harm."
"Didn't his coming put you in order too?"
Clam gave a little toss of her head, infinitely knowing and satisfied at the same time, and once more and more broadly shewed the white ivory between her not unpretty parted teeth.
"I think you want putting in order now," said her mistress.
"Always did," said Clam with a slight arch of her eyebrows, — "always shall. Best get him to manage it, Miss 'Lizabeth — he can do it quicker'n anybody else — for me, — and I dare say he would for you."
"I don't believe you ever were put in order," said Elizabeth, — "to stay."
"I didn't use to do a wrong thing as long as he was in the house!" said Clam. "Didn't want to. — You wouldn't neither, if you was in the house with him."
"What do you mean by Mrs. Landholm's getting her face straight when he came? — was'nt it always so?"
"'Twa'n't always so," said Clam, — "for when he come, half the wrinkles went away, and the grey hairs all turned black again."
There came such a pang to Elizabeth's heart, such a gush to her eyes, that she hid her face on her knees and heard nothing of what her handmaid said for a long time after. If Clam talked, she had the talk all to herself; and when Elizabeth at last raised her head, her handmaiden was standing on the other side of the fireplace looking at her, and probably making up her mind that she wanted 'fixing' very much. There was no further discussion of the subject, however; for Miss Haye immediately called for her bonnet and veil, wrapped herself in a light scarf and went out. The door had hardly closed upon her when the bell rang again, and she came running up-stairs to her room.