"I think there is more of it than there used to be in Normandy even," I remarked: "Old Dame Trehorn was quite in despair about her sons yesterday, because she says she heard the old shoes dance of themselves in the press the night before last, and she is sure their owners either are or will be drowned. And Mary Mellish would not let the children come to school yesterday because some one heard the wish-hounds the night before." "It is a pity the poor people would not learn to have more faith in God and less fear of apparitions and the like," said my mother. My aunt looked a little displeased. "I suppose, sister Meg, you will hardly go so far as to say there are no such things as ghosts and fairies and the like," said she. "That would indeed be to be wiser than our fathers." "But, Aunt Amy, we are wiser than our fathers in a great many things, or think we are," said I. "Our fathers used to believe in purgatory, and worshipping of images and the like, but we do not." My aunt deigned me no answer. "As to Jeanne, sister, you will of course do as you please, since she is your woman, and the apartment is yours. I would, however, that you would try to teach her to live on better terms with Deborah and the other woman. I am not used to these quarrels below stairs." I would have spoken, for I felt very warm in defense of my foster-mother, but maman checked me with a look, and said gently that she hoped not to need Jeanne much longer, and after that she would of course lodge with her husband at his cottage. "Why, there it is," said my aunt. "As soon as one speaks a word, you take offence. And now that we are on the subject—" (she did not say what subject), "I must say that I cannot think it becomes Vevette to remark upon my housekeeping before the maids. She is not yet mistress, however she may come to be, and I think young maids had best learn in silence and not pass their judgment on what is done by their elders. Ours Catechism teaches young folks to order themselves lowly and reverently to their betters, whatever yours may do in France." And here my aunt stopped, having talked herself quite out of breath. "What do you mean, aunt?" I asked, quite bewildered by this accusation. "When have I censured you?" "Oh, you know very well what I mean, I am quite sure. It might be only thoughtlessness, but you ought to be more careful." "But, aunt, indeed I do not know; I have not the least idea," said I, which was quite true. "Will you be so kind, sister Corbet, as to tell my child and her mother to what your allude?" said my mother, with all that stateliness which was natural to her, but speaking kindly. "I assure you that if my daughter hath done wrong, either wilfully or carelessly, she shall ask your pardon." Aunt Amy had had time to cool. "Ah, well, I dare say it was but thoughtlessness; and young maids must be young maids, I suppose." "But what was it?" my mother persisted, to my secret delight, for I was not conscious of any offence.