Soon after the eventful visit to London, Godwin paid his mother a Saturday to Monday visit, and took the opportunity of the old lady’s afternoon nap to make a formal remonstrance with Deborah. She was sitting on the old-fashioned fender-stool by the drawing-room fire, stroking the head of his fox terrier, when he came very softly down the long, cold-looking room, and stood behind her. She was bending down over the dog, talking to him softly; but presently, lifting up her head and perceiving the blocking out of the light from the window behind her, she turned with a start. “Oh, Godwin, you startled me! I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you’d gone over to Llancader.” “I changed my mind; I wanted to have a talk with you.” Deborah moved impatiently. He went on quickly, noticing this movement, “Oh, not on the old subject; don’t be afraid. I see you are not in the mood for one of my matter-of-fact proposals. I’m not even going to ask you why you are so particularly brusque, not to say snappish, to me this time. But I want to know why you don’t keep another servant. You know very well that, with what I send to her, my mother can afford it.” Deborah, who had got up from the fender-stool and seated herself firmly on a chair, spoke very coldly and decisively. “Is there anything wrong about the house, then--dirty windows, unswept carpets, or bad cooking--that you are dissatisfied with our arrangement?” Godwin bounced up from the chair he had taken, and, standing with his back to the fireplace, stared over her head defiantly. “Well, of all the disagreeable, bad-tempered girls I ever met, you are the most impossible to do anything with,” he said, at last losing his temper. “What do you suppose I want you to keep another servant for, except to save you trouble? Considering that I don’t live at home, what would it matter to me if the washing were hung over the front garden wall, and the knives cleaned on the drawing-room table?” “What are you grumbling for, then?” “I was not grumbling at all. I merely thought that a second servant would allow you to have more time to yourself.” “That was not your reason at all. You thought it more in accordance with the family dignity--that is, your dignity--that there should be two servants in your mother’s house.” Godwin brought his eyes quickly down from the window, and looked at her with a keenness which made her uncomfortable. “You are unhappy,” he said at last, shortly, and not at all tenderly. “You never used to fish among people’s motives for a mean one like that. You have had some annoyance or disappointment, and, like an unreasoning woman, you visit it on me, because you think you can hurt me. But you shan’t! you shan’t!” And he put his hands in his pockets, and walked away up the room with a defiant air. Deborah felt sorry and ashamed. He was quite right, and she knew it.