The fortunate girl-wife went on through Brompton to Walham Green with a stunned feeling. So women have felt in tumbrils. A nightmare of butlers, a galaxy of possible butlers, filled her soul. No one was quite so big and formidable as Snagsby, towering up to receive her, upon the steps of the home her husband was so amazingly giving her. The reader has already been privileged to see something of this house in the company of Lady Beach-Mandarin. At the top of the steps stood Mrs. Crumble, the new and highly recommended cook-housekeeper in her best black silk flounced and expanded, and behind her peeped several neat maids in caps and aprons. A little valet-like under-butler appeared and tried to balance Snagsby by hovering two steps above him on the opposite side of the Victorian mediæval porch. Assisted officiously by Snagsby and amidst the deferential unhelpful gestures of the under-butler, Sir Isaac handed his wife out of the car. “Everything all right, Snagsby?” he asked brusquely if a little breathless. “Everything in order, Sir Isaac.” “And here;—this is her ladyship.” “I ’ope her ladyship ’ad a pleasent journey to ’er new ’ome. I’m sure if I may presume, Sir Isaac, we shall all be very glad to serve her ladyship.” (Like all well-trained English servants, Snagsby always dropped as many h’s as he could when conversing with his superiors. He did this as a mark of respect and to prevent social confusion, just as he was always careful to wear a slightly misfitting dress coat and fold his trousers so that they creased at the sides and had a wide flat effect in front.) Lady Harman bowed a little shyly to his good wishes and was then led up to Mrs. Crumble, in a stiff black silk, who curtseyed with a submissive amiability to her new mistress. “I’m sure, me lady,” she said. “I’m sure——” There was a little pause. “Here they are, you see, right and ready,” said Sir Isaac, and then with an inspiration, “Got any tea for us, Snagsby?” Snagsby addressing his mistress inquired if he should serve tea in the garden or the drawing-room, and Sir Isaac decided for the garden. “There’s another hall beyond this,” he said, and took his wife’s arm, leaving Mrs. Crumble still bowing amiably before the hall table. And every time she bowed she rustled richly.... “It’s quite a big garden,” said Sir Isaac. §2 And so the woman who had been a girl three weeks ago, this tall, dark-eyed, slightly perplexed and very young-looking lady, was introduced to the home that had been made for her. She went about it with an alarmed sense of strange responsibilities, not in the least feeling that anything was being given to her. And Sir Isaac led her from point to point full of the pride and joy of new possession—for it was his first own house as well as hers—rejoicing over it and exacting gratitude. “It’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked looking up at her. “It’s wonderful. I’d no idea.”