“Yes; but before I particularise I must express my general satisfaction in him as a man-body. I had no idea that man bodies in a house were so perfectly admirable.”
“I've sometimes feared that we were not fully appreciated,” said Sewell. “Well?”
“The house is another thing with a man-body in it. I've often gone without little things I wanted, simply because I hated to make Sarah bring them, and because I hated still worse to go after them, knowing we were both weakly and tired. Now I deny myself nothing. I make Lemuel fetch and carry without remorse, from morning till night. I never knew it before, but the man-body seems never to be tired, or ill, or sleepy.”
“Yes,” said Sewell, “that is often the idea of the woman-body. I'm not sure that it's correct.”
“Oh, don't attack it!” implored Miss Vane. “You don't know what a blessing it is. Then, the man-body never complains, and I can't see that he expects anything more in an order than the clear understanding of it. He doesn't expect it to be accounted for in any way; the fact that you say you want a thing is enough. It is very strange. Then the moral support of the presence of a man-body is enormous. I now know that I have never slept soundly since I have kept house alone—that I have never passed a night without hearing burglars or smelling fire.”
“And now?”
“And now I shouldn't mind a legion of burglars in the house; I shouldn't mind being burned in my bed every night. I feel that Lemuel is in charge, and that nothing can happen.”
“Is he really so satisfactory?” asked Sewell, exhaling a deep relief.
“He is, indeed,” said Miss Vane. “I couldn't, exaggerate it.”
“Well, well! Don't try. We are finite, after all, you know. Do you think it can last?”