Without the least trouble he could remember just how it had been nine or ten months ago, when Mrs. Hansen had ruled, when he had been a bachelor. Sighed, but not with bitterness. Order-loving and systematic as he was, he was not exasperated by the turmoil in his home, or by the dreadful meals. He had toward Minnie an absolutely boundless tenderness. For one thing, he could see that she always _tried_; her failure came not from laziness but from--he hesitated even to think it--from lack of intelligence, from a sort of obstinate stupidity. Servants were hard to procure and Minnie never got on well with them. There were always scenes, in which Minnie was the perfect Defoe and the servant very impudent. She seemed to have an absolute talent for provoking impudence from the most unexpected sources. Furthermore, she would not pay good wages. She resented the very idea of a servant profiting by her work. It was one of her queer little parsimonies. So she was compelled to do most of the work of the house alone. When she became quite submerged in the torrent of disorder, she called upon Mrs. Hansen, but grudgingly and ungraciously. It was after six, and she hadn’t begun even to consider dinner. He went upstairs and found her sweeping the big bedroom with frantic haste. “Oh, Chris,” she said, with a worried frown, “I know I’m awfully late. But I had a terrible headache, and I had to lie down almost all afternoon.” He put his arm about her shoulders. “Oh, leave this!” he said. “You poor little soul! If you’re well enough to get dressed, we’ll go and have dinner at the Eagle House.” “But, Chris, the house! The kitchen!” “Nonsense! I’ll get Mrs. Hansen----” “No, not that odious woman!” “Someone else then. Come on, little Minnie! Put on your nice new dress! I’ll find Sandra.” Finding Sandra was a recognised preliminary. Her mother never knew where she was. She roamed about the neighbourhood, dirty and beautiful, playing with whatever children she encountered, or, oftener, went quite alone on her expeditions. She was never hungry, and hadn’t the least regard for meal times. Sometimes it sufficed to call her, sometimes Petersen went making enquiries.