Meanwhile, as he worked in the background, he gathered up many crumbs of conversation, and scraps of family and local news. He learned that Mr. Morven’s great work on _The Mithraic Heresy and Its Oriental Origin_ was nearly complete, that the Manor cook had given notice, and that no one had rented the fishing. “The Woolcocks have a houseful at Westmere,” so said Miss Susan, “and their staff of servants had recently enjoyed a sensational turning out. Joey Waring and her husband are there, just back from their winter trip.” “And how is Joe?” inquired Aurea. “Her hair is twice as fluffy, and she is louder, noisier, and talks ten times more than ever!” “Now, Susan, you know that is impossible!” “Yes; Kathleen declares that you can hear her laugh as you pass the park gates.” “What! a whole mile away! She must have mistaken one of the peacocks for Joey, and however loud she laughs and talks, she never says an unkind word of any one.” “No, a good, kind little soul! but I wonder Captain Waring can stand her, and her chatter does not drive him crazy.” “On the contrary, he adores her, and is enormously proud of her flow of animation and conversation. You see, he is so silent himself, Joey is his antithesis; and Joey is worshipped at home, for in a family of large, heavy, silent people, a little gabbling creature is appreciated. Tell me about Kathleen.” “Oh, Kathleen is, as usual, very busy and cheery; she has three new boarders--hungry and quarrelsome.” “And he?” “Just as usual too, dear. You know he never can be better.” “But he may grow worse!” “Oh, don’t speak of such a thing! Think of Kathleen.” “Yes; and I think Kathleen is a saint--so brave and unselfish. Now, where shall we put the old Palairet mirrors?” “You had better consult your Aunt Bella.” “My dear, good Susan!” (This was the style in which she addressed her relative.) “Don’t you know your own sister by this time? She has been here nearly seven months, and you are not half settled yet--only bedrooms and dining-room--and I have undertaken to help you finish off in three days.” “Yes, but that’s nonsense, though I must say you’ve worked miracles this morning--curtains, covers, carpet; but there was no question of where they had to go. As to pictures, mirrors, and cabinets, it will take your aunt a twelvemonth to decide how to place them.” “I shall decide, and place them to-day,” rejoined the girl, with calm decision; “if I ask Aunt Bella, they will be tried on every wall, till our backs are broken, and then taken down after all. The round glass between the windows,”--looking about and speaking with authority--“the other over the mantelpiece, the Chinese cabinet in that niche--they are just made for one another--the Charles the First black bureau from the schoolroom just here, and the screen from her bedroom by the door.” “My dear child, you”--and she broke into a laugh--“you wouldn’t _dare_!”