"Has he now? Well, I'm delighted to hear that. It is some trouble about the English estates, I believe, that vexes him?" "Faix, then, ma'am, I don't just know what it is that ails him, unless it be just that he has too much money for to know what to do wid it. That'd be the sore vexation to me, I know." "Well; ah, yes; I suppose I shall see Mrs. Jones to-morrow, or at latest the day after," said Mrs. Townsend, resolving to pique the man by making him understand that she could easily learn all that she wished to learn from the woman: "a great comfort Mrs. Jones must be to her ladyship." "Oh yes, ma'am; 'deed an' she is," said Richard; "'specially in the matter of puddins and pies, and such like." He was not going to admit Mrs. Jones's superiority, seeing that he had lived in the family long before his present mistress's marriage. "And in a great many other things too, Richard. She's quite a confidential servant. That's because she's a Protestant, you know." Now of all men, women, and creatures living, Richard the coachman of Castle Richmond was the most good tempered. No amount of anger or scolding, no professional misfortune--such as the falling down of his horse upon the ice, no hardship--such as three hours' perpetual rain when he was upon the box--would make him cross. To him it was a matter of perfect indifference if he were sent off with his car just before breakfast, or called away to some stable work as the dinner was about to smoke in the servants' hall. He was a great eater, but what he didn't eat one day he could eat the next. Such things never ruffled him, nor was he ever known to say that such a job wasn't his work. He was always willing to nurse a baby, or dig potatoes, or cook a dinner, to the best of his ability, when asked to do so; but he could not endure to be made less of than a Protestant; and of all Protestants he could not endure to be made less of than Mrs. Jones. "'Cause she's a Protestant, is it, ma'am?" "Of course, Richard; you can't but see that Protestants are more trusted, more respected, more thought about than Romanists, can you?" "'Deed then I don't know, ma'am." "But look at Mrs. Jones." "Oh, I looks at her often enough; and she's well enough too for a woman. But we all know her weakness." "What's that, Richard?" asked Mrs. Townsend, with some interest expressed in her tone; for she was not above listening to a little scandal, even about the servants of her great neighbours. "Why, she do often talk about things she don't understand. But she's a great hand at puddins and pies, and that's what one mostly looks for in a woman." This was enough for Mrs. Townsend for the present, and so Richard was allowed to take his departure, in full self-confidence that he had been one too many for the parson's wife. "Jerry," said Richard, as they walked out into the yard together to get the Castle Richmond pony, "does they often thry to make a Prothestant of you now?"