"And anything I can do for you, Spruce, or for your husband," continued Maryllia, dropping her business-like tone for one of as coaxing a sweetness as ever Shakespeare's Juliet practised for the persuasion of her too tardy Nurse--"will be done with ever so much pleasure! You know that, don't you?" And she laid her pretty little hands on the worthy woman's portly shoulders--"You shall go out whenever you like--after work, of course!--duty first, pleasure second!--and you shall even grumble, if you feel like it,--and have your little naps when the midday meal is done with,--Aunt Emily's housekeeper in London used to have them, and she snored dreadfully! the second footman--QUITE a nice lad--used to tickle her nose with a straw! But I can't afford to keep a second footman--one is quite enough,--or a coachman, or a carriage;--besides, I would always rather ride than drive,--and my groom, Bennett, will only want a stable-boy to help him with Cleo and Daffodil. So I hope there'll be no one downstairs to tease you, Spruce dear, by tickling YOUR nose with a straw! Primmins looks much too staid and respectable to think of such a thing." She laughed merrily,--and Mrs. Spruce for the life of her could not help laughing too. The picture of Primmins condescending to indulge in a game of 'nose and straw' was too grotesque to be considered with gravity. "Well I never, Miss!" she ejaculated--"You do put things that funny!" "Do I? I'm so glad!" said Maryllia demurely--"it's nice to be funny to other people, even if you're not funny to yourself! But I want you to understand from the first, Spruce, that everyone must feel happy and contented in my household. So if anything goes wrong, you must tell me, and I will try and set it right. Now I'm going for an hour's walk with Plato, and when I come in, and have had my tea, I'll visit the picture-gallery. I know all about it,--Uncle Fred told me,"--she paused, and her eyes darkened with a wistful and deepening gravity,--then she added gently--"I shall not want you there, Spruce,--I must be quite alone." Mrs. Spruce again curtseyed humbly, and was about to withdraw, when Maryllia called her back. "What about the clergyman here, Mr. Walden?"--she asked--"Is he a nice man?--kind to the village people, I mean, and good to the poor?" Mrs. Spruce gave a kind of ecstatic gasp, folded her fat hands tightly together in front of her voluminous apron, and launched forth straightway on her favourite theme.