This strange state of things continued for some days. Mary found herself living as in a state of siege. She was permitted to visit the children in the nursery, and nurse was quite polite. She was also supplied with what she required, her little meals sent to her, the morning-room prepared for her inhabitation, and the housemaid who attended to her civil--but otherwise she was made to understand that her position was one of sufferance, and her presence exceedingly undesirable. This was all the more strange that she had already been left alone in the house on more than one occasion with no such result, the servants, if not very anxious to please her, being always at least observant of civility, and making no stand against her. She reflected, however, that her previous experience had been only of a few days, and that a fortnight was a long time for such a community to be put under the sway of a stranger like herself, whom they had no right to obey, and whom with the spirit of their class they despised as at once better and not so good as themselves--an inferior with the appearance of a superior--far below themselves in independence, while apparently placed over them. Mary being obliged to think upon the subject by the strange circumstances in which she found herself, made all these excuses and explanations of the conduct of the conspirators, and ended by thinking that on the whole it was natural though very uncomfortable, and that she could quite understand their way of thinking. But there was no doubt that it was very unpleasant. Sounds of revelry reached her from the servants’ hall every night; the men lounged about all day and smoked where they pleased; the rooms were locked up and nothing done. Jane, the housemaid, informed her that they all thought they had a right to a rest. “There’s a deal to do in this house. Them hunting and fishing things, if it was nothing else, puts Mr. Saunders and John in a continual worrit, special when there’s gentlemen coming that don’t bring a vally--and half the gentlemen here don’t. We’ve all made up our minds as we’ll have a good rest.” “They might have done that, Jane, without behaving as they have done, in other ways.” “Oh, I don’t know,” said Jane, tossing her head. “Men don’t stand being put upon.” “You do it,” said Mary. “I know that you are not doing any work, and perhaps it is not necessary; but you are civil to me.” “You was always civil to me, miss,” said Jane. “I don’t like to see you put upon no more than the rest. But you’ll allow as it’s hard upon the men, with their spirits, to have somebody left behind to spy upon them, and that not one of the family. Not quite a--one as isn’t no better, perhaps--oh, I’m sure I beg your pardon, miss!” “Well,” said Mary, doing what she could to suppress her indignation, “supposing all that was true: how are they to meet Mrs. Parke when she comes home.”