“‘Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock,’ says Mr. Rouncewell, after a pause of a few moments; ‘I beg to take my leave with an apology for having again troubled you. I can very well understand, I assure you, how very tiresome so small a matter must have become to Lady Dedlock. If I am doubtful on my dealing with it, it is only _because I did not at first quietly exert my influence to take my young friend here away_ without troubling you at all. I hope you will excuse my want of acquaintance with the polite world.” As a matter of fact, certain rumours against Lady Dedlock’s reputation, and hints as to her “past,” have come to the ears of the honest tradesman, and he prefers to remove his son’s betrothed wife from the contact of a possible pernicious influence. The very same thing is done scores of times over in many similar cases to-day. No one knows the real character and disposition of the mistress of a home better than the servants she employs, and if she is honoured and loved by her domestics, she stands on surer ground than the praise or flattery of her fashionable friends. It is all a question of “home” again. A real home is a home to all connected with it. The very kitchen-maid employed in it, the boy who runs errands for the house; indeed every servant, from the lowest to the highest, should feel that their surroundings are truly “homelike,”--that things are well-ordered, peaceful and happy; that the presiding spirit of the place, the mistress, is contented with her life, and cheerfully interested in the welfare of all around her,--then “all things work together for good,” and the house becomes a bulwark against adversity, a harbour in storm, a “nest” indeed, where warmth, repose, and mutual trust and help make the days sweet and the nights calm. But where the mistress is scarcely ever at home,--when she prefers public restaurants to her own dining-room,--when with each change of the seasons she is gadding about somewhere, and avoiding home as much as possible, how is it to be expected that even servants will care to stay with her, or ever learn to admire and respect her? Peace and happiness are hers to possess in the natural and God-given ways of home life, if she chooses,--but if she turns aside from her real sovereignty, throws down her sceptre and plays with the sticks and straws of the “half-world,” she has only herself to blame if the end should prove but dire confusion and the bitterness of strife.