"She did dressmaking, an’ she took a lodger. Lady Lettice an’ the young ladies ’elped her all they could, and she was doin’ pretty well when she took an’ died, an’ she left Jane-Anne to me. My ’usban’ was alive then—not as he was much use, an’ I’ve done my best, but you see, I’m only a servant an’ not being out reg’lar makes it harder. Lord Dursley, he got her a nomination for the asylum at Baresgill, but I don’t know if she can stop there. It’s very cold up there in Northumberland, an’ she’s got a delicate chest. She’ve been there fifteen months, but ’as ’ad a lot of illness, an’ I don’t know if she can keep on. They don’t like it, you see, sir, such a lot of illness." "I understand it is some kind of an orphanage. The boys, you know, spoke to me about your niece, Mrs. Dew. I quite look forward to making her acquaintance. Do they receive any special training where she is?" "Oh, yes, sir, it’s a most superior place where they train them for young servants. They get their education and their clothes and good, thorough training in household duties, and when they’re seventeen they put them out in good families that they know about, where they take an interest in the servants and treat them well." "It sounds an admirable institution," said Mr. Wycherly. "Are the children happy there?" "Most of the girls, sir, are happy as birds. It’s a really good place, sir, plenty of wholesome food, nice airy rooms—but there! Jane-Anne she frets something dreadful. Sometimes I fear she’ll never make a good dependable servant. If it’s book-learnin’, now, she’s on to it like a cat on to a mouse. There’s never no complaint there—but you never know what flightiness Jane-Anne ’ll be after." "You see," Mr. Wycherly said indulgently, "she is only a child as yet. We must have patience. Anyway, Mrs. Dew, I hope that is settled. Send for your furniture and for Jane-Anne——" "I am deeply obliged to you, sir," Mrs. Dew said earnestly, "and I will endeavour to serve you faithful. I will arrange with Miss Morecraft, her as I shares the ’ouse with, and I’ll fetch Jane-Anne most thankfully when she can be moved——" "Is she ill then?" "She’s managed to get a most fearful cold on ’er chest; ’ow I can’t conceive, but so it is; she’s that hoarse and croupy, Miss Morecraft’s kep’ ’er in bed, and what I really came to ask, sir, was if I might pop round after supper to see ’ow the child is." "By all means, Mrs. Dew, and whenever she can be moved, bring her here. Then you can look after her yourself." Mr. Wycherly was very exhausted after this long conversation. He lay back in his chair and closed his eyes with a sense of well-earned repose. Whatever this child—this window-breaking, "cropping-up," generally disturbing little girl might be, she could not be one half so dreadful as the sort of servant Mr. Wycherly saw himself a thrall to if Mrs. Dew deserted him. Besides, Mrs. Dew, herself, would be there to keep her in order.