The old Indian woman had been devoted to the interests of the family since forty years before, when Joseph Devereux found her--a beaten, half-starved child of ten--living with her drunken father in a wretched hut on the outskirts of the town, and brought her to his own house for his wife to rear and instruct. And because of her idolatrous love for her benefactor and his family, she had endured patiently the exacting tyranny of Aunt Penine, whom she detested. Her tall, spare figure was now moving about her domain with a curious dignity inseparable from her Indian birth; but she paused in what she was doing the moment her master and his daughter appeared at the door, and remained facing them in respectful silence. She was alone, the men having gone off to their duties about the farm, and the maids to the dairy, or to the housework above stairs. "I desire to ask you, Tyntie," her master began, addressing her with the same grave courtesy he would have used in speaking to the best-born lady in the land, "if, since I forbade the making or using o' tea in my house, any has been brewed?" "Yes, master," she answered without any hesitancy; and a sly look, as of revenge, crept into her black eyes. "How dared ye do such a thing?" he demanded, his face severe with indignation. "I never did it," was her laconic reply. "Then who did? I command ye to make a clean breast o' the matter." And he struck his stick peremptorily upon the floor, while Dorothy, awed by the unusual anger showing in his voice and bearing, drew a little away from him. "It was Mistress Penine brewed the tea, for her own drinking." And Tyntie showed actual pleasure in being thus enabled to expose her oppressor. "And how often hath this happened since I gave strict orders that none should be had or drunk in this house o' mine?" "'Most every day; and sometimes more than once in the day." "And how were you guarding your master's interests, to permit such secret goings on under his roof, without giving him warning?" The tears rose to Tyntie's eyes and stood sparkling there; but her voice was firm as she replied, "It was not for me to know that Mistress Penine was doing anything wrongful, nor for me, a servant, to come to you, my master, with evil reports o' your own kinsfolk." She spoke slowly and with calm dignity, and her words softened the white wrath from the old man's face. He bent his head for a moment, as though pondering deeply; then he looked at her and said in a very different tone: "You are a right-minded, faithful servant, Tyntie, and I must tell you I am sorry to have spoken as I did a moment agone. But from this day henceforth, bear in mind that should you ever see aught being done under my roof that you've heard me forbid, 't is your bounden duty to come and inform me freely o' such matter." "Yes, master." Tyntie now wiped her eyes, and looked very much comforted.