“If I was you,” said Patty, “I’d write them all there in future. New folks make new ways. I am very particular about my house. I like everything kept in its proper place--and every person,” she added significantly. “The servants can’t serve two masters. That is in the Bible, you know, so it must be true.” “I do not think,” said Margaret, with a faint smile, “that you will be troubled by their devotion to me.” “No; I suppose you have let yourself be put upon,” said Patty; “because, though you think yourself one of the family, you ain’t exactly one of the family, and, of course, they see that. It’s not good for a houseful of servants to have a sort of a lady, neither one thing nor another, neither a mistress nor a servant, in the house. It teaches them to be disrespectful to their betters, because they know you can’t do anything to them. I would rather pension poor relations off than have them about the house putting everything out.” “It will not be necessary in my case,” cried Margaret, with a sudden flame of anger and shame enveloping her all over. “I had fully intended to leave Greyshott, but wished to avoid any appearance of---- any shock to my uncle.” “Oh, take your time!” cried Patty, with a toss of her head; and she called to the housemaids, who appeared timorous and undecided at the door. “Come here, and I’ll show how I wish you to settle all this in future,” she said. “Oh, Mrs. Osborne’s going! You needn’t mind for her.” CHAPTER XXXI. It was not worth while to be angry. She had known, of course, all along, how it must be. There had been no thought in her mind of resistance, of remaining in Greyshott as Patty’s companion, of appealing to her uncle against the new mistress of the house. It had not been a very happy home for Margaret at any time; though, while Lady Piercey lived, it was a sure one, as well as habitual,--the only place that seemed natural to her, and to which she belonged. Perhaps, she said to herself, as she went hurriedly upstairs, with that sense of the intolerable which a little insult brings almost more keenly than a great sorrow, it was better that the knot should thus be cut for her by an alert and decisive hand, and no uncertainty left on the subject. She went into her room quickly, with a “wind in her going,” a sweep of her skirts, an action and movement about her which was unlike her usual composure. Sarah was alone in her room, not seated quietly at work as was her wont, but standing at the window looking out upon some scene below. There was a corner of the stable yard visible from one window of Margaret’s rooms, which were far from being the best rooms in the house. “Where is Master Osy?” Mrs. Osborne said. “He is with Sir Giles, ma’am. I--I was just taking a glance from the window before I began my work----”