‘I miss him very much; but I don’t think I am very dull. My father occupies a good deal of my time; and then there is Daphne, who has generally plenty to say for herself.’ ‘Meaning that I am an insatiable chatterer,’ said Daphne, laughing. ‘I’m afraid it was Dibb—I mean Martha, an old schoolfellow of mine—who got me into the habit of talking so much.’ ‘Was she a great talker?’ ‘Quite the contrary. She rarely opened her mouth except to put something into it, so I acquired the pernicious habit of talking for two.’ Edgar now came in, and seeing Daphne and his mother seated side by side upon the sofa, felt himself exalted to the seventh heaven of tranquil joy. This and this only was needed to fill his cup of bliss: that his mother should be content, that life should flow on smoothly in the old grooves. ‘Well, Daphne, how do you like the look of Hawksyard in the winter?’ ‘I think it is quite the nicest old place in the world. I haven’t seen much of the world; but I can’t imagine a more interesting old house.’ ‘You will like it better and better as you become acquainted with it,’ said Mrs. Turchill. ‘It is one of the most convenient houses I ever saw, and I have seen a good many in my time. My husband’s mother was a capital housekeeper, and she did not rest till she had made the domestic arrangements as near perfection as was possible in her time. I have tried to follow in her footsteps.’ ‘And to make perfection still more perfect,’ said Edgar. ‘There are modern inventions and improvements, Edgar, which your grandmother knew nothing about. Not that I hold with them all. If you are not tied for time,’ added Mrs. Turchill, addressing herself to the two young ladies, ‘I should very much like to show Daphne the domestic offices. It would give her an idea of what she will have to deal with by-and-by.’ Daphne, who knew about as much as a butterfly knows of the management of a house, smiled faintly but said nothing. She had come to Hawksyard determined to make herself pleasing to Mrs. Turchill, if it were possible, for Edgar’s sake. ‘I ventured to tell them to take out the horses,’ said Edgar, ‘knowing that you don’t dine till eight.’ ‘I shall be pleased to stay as long as Mrs. Turchill likes,’ answered Madoline; whereupon the matron, acknowledging this speech with a gracious bend, rose from her sofa, took her key-basket from the table, and led the way to the corridor in which opened those china and linen stores which were the supreme delight of her soul.