As the days went on Marchmont grew more dissatisfied and restless, more exacting and more difficult to manage. His brain was not in the least touched by his illness; only his natural suspiciousness seemed to grow ever keener and sharper, and his curiosity and determination to know everything, down to the minutest detail, of what went on in the household, more boundless and ungovernable. As August progressed, the lives of those at the great house did not grow happier. Marchmont’s nurse, though endowed with quite as much patience as the rest of her kind, grew restive, and told Fulvia one day that as a rule she could stand any kind of patient by simply taking no notice of his ‘tantrums,’ as she was pleased to call them; but that with Mr. Marchmont this was impossible, as he had a way with him more irritating and obnoxious than that of anyone whom she had ever nursed before. His man also, a valuable servant, and one who knew that he had in some respects a very good place, became rebellious about the same time. Somehow or other the domestic phalanx had got wind of what Mr. Brownrigg had said--that the invalid was not in the least likely to die, only to grow more obnoxious--and somehow it then dawned upon them all that, whether they said so or not, this was a great and bitter blow--a terrible disappointment. They did not speak it out, no one spoke it out; but they showed it by short tempers, irritability, and a general air of disgust and tendency to mutiny. Morrison and the nurse chose the same day on which to utter their respective protests. Morrison said that his post would be a hard one at any wages, but that when he was told by his master that he was worth nothing, and that the wages of a stable-boy would more than pay for his services, he felt that it was not worth his while to remain. Fulvia listened to them both, giving them their interviews one after the other. She heard with grave dignity what they had to say. She found their complaints perfectly rational, and told them so. She asked the nurse to remain as long as she could, and then she would be relieved in the order of things, according to the rules of her institution. To Morrison she simply explained the case, and said openly that it depended on his goodwill whether he endured it any longer. ‘If he ever gave one word of thanks, ma’am,’ said the man, ‘or ever spoke pleasant to me, I could do anything, for it must be awful to be laid on your back in that way, so helpless, and he’s younger than I am. But I have to wait on him hand and foot, and then be abused for it. It’s more than flesh and blood----’