“But it is very aggravating, my dear, to see ’em chatting and whispering in each other’s rooms, passing unkind remarks behind one’s back, and appearing all smiles and friendly like before your face. “It don’t matter what you do for ’em, my dear, they will talk about you; and, although I’m no eavesdropper, and wouldn’t listen at any one’s door for all the world, I _do_ know certain things of certain parties, which would surprise certain quarters, if it was only whispered in their ear confidentially, my dear. “But I’m _not_ one of that kind; I know my position too well for that, my dear, and wouldn’t lower my dignity by peeping into their rooms when they are out, not me! or prying into boxes and drawers, and rummaging about with their work-boxes and private notes. No indeed, nothing of that kind in my house, my dear. “If they meets me on the landing and says, “‘Dame Worthington, will you come in for a few moments?’ “I always says, “‘Certainly, with pleasure, Mistress Perkins; how do you do this morning ma’am? you are looking very well, I never saw you look so young and captivating, indeed I didn’t. Come in! of course I will, for a few minutes, to have a friendly chat, like, about old times.’ “But I always says, “‘Please don’t offer me any refreshment, Mistress Perkins,’ I says, ‘because my stomach is weak, and I can’t stand it; a thimbleful of brandy would knock me over, my dear, in a minute.’ “Because a glass of ginger wine don’t cost _much_, you know, my dear; and if you accepts _their_ little deceitful offers, they always takes advantage of it to wear the very legs off the poor servant girl, and me too, if I’d let ’em. “But I lets ’em ring away till tired, and takes no notice, until they comes down stairs themselves, and then when they knocks at my door, I seems surprised not to hear the bell, and then they gets what they want. “Bless you, my dear, if something wasn’t done, we should wear the stairs out. “First there’s old Mr. Brown upstairs, he wants hot water half-a-dozen times a day and can’t hear the dinner bell without it is rung outside his door. “Mistress Perkins is always in want of something, and that wretched pet dog of hers is _always_ causing trouble. “It was only the other day I missed a beefsteak off the kitchen table, and at last I traced it upstairs to Mistress Perkins,’ door, where the dog stood growling and showing his teeth, until in fright I upset the servant maid and her pail of water, and fell headlong down stairs.” The smiling old scoundrel, Sir Andrew, would sit and listen to the good old dame, as she recounted her trials and troubles, and would nod in approval as meekly as a lamb. But he was a deep designing old villain, as we shall see. It is true that the old dame had fallen downstairs and seriously hurt herself and was then very ill. He also had learned that, in some way, she was a very distant relation of his, and the only one then living.