Since entering the house of the Lamberts the demon of Order had swelled Jinnee-like in her breast, and the seven devils of spring cleaning, each of whose right hands is a cake of soap, and whose left hands are scrubbing-brushes, arose and ramped. The whole place and the people therein, from the bell-pull to the cats'-breakfast-destined haddock, from Susannah to her mistress, exercised a fascination upon Miss Hancock beyond the power of words to describe. She had measured Susannah from her sand-coloured hair to her slipshod feet, gauged her capacity for work and her moral ineptitude, and had already dismissed her, in her mind; as for the rest of the business, the ordering of Fanny and of her father, whom she divined, the setting of the house to rights and the righting of all the Lamberts' affairs, mundane and extra-mundane--this, she felt, would be a work, which accomplished, she could say, "I have not lived in vain." All this might be lost by a lecture misplaced. "Of course you will please yourself," she said. "I would only say do nothing rashly; and in whatever way you decide, I hope you will always be our friend. You are very young to have the cares of a house and the ordering of servants thrust upon you, and any assistance or advice I can give you, I should be very glad to give." "Thanks _so_ much!" "I would be very glad to call some day and have a good long chat with you; my experience in housekeeping might be of assistance." "I should be _delighted_," gasped Fanny, who felt like a bird in the net of the fowler, and whose soul was filled with one wild longing--the longing to escape. "What day shall we say?" "Monday--no, not Monday, I have an engagement. Tuesday--I am not sure about Tuesday. Suppose--suppose I write?" "I am disengaged all next week; any day you please to appoint I shall be glad to come. What a large garden you have!" "Would you like to come round it?" "Yes; I will wait till you put on your hat." "Oh, I scarcely ever wear a hat in the garden. If you come this way we can go out through the side door." They wandered around the garden, Miss Hancock making notes in her own mind. As they passed the kitchen window, a face gazed out, a beery, leery face, behind which could be seen the pale phantom of Susannah. The face was gazing at Miss Hancock with an expression of amused and critical impudence that caused that lady to pause and snort. "Did you see that man looking from the window?" she asked. "Yes," said Fanny in an agony, "it must have been the plumber; he came this morning to mend the stove. Oh, here is your carriage waiting; _so_ glad you called. Yes, I'll write." CHAPTER III THE RESULT--(_continued_) Miss Lambert ran back to the house. She made a bee-line for the library, sat down at the writing-table, seized a pen and a sheet of paper, and began writing as if inspired. This is what she wrote, in part: