'The Abbey,' said Mrs. Jones. 'My dear doctor, of whom I am the relict, lies there. He has a suitable, elegant monument. So also does Captain Shadrach Jones, his father――also with a neat memorial. Perhaps you would like to see them. Baker!' 'No, mamma,' said Jesse, 'it is the possessed with devils who frequent tombs.' 'My dear, don't be irreverent.' But she did not insist on dismounting at the Abbey. Presently the widow said, 'I presume that the creature chose those dresses for you.' 'What creature?' 'The woman, you know.' 'What woman? Do you mean Mrs. Jose?' 'Mrs. Jose! Oh, dear no. She is not a creature or a woman, but a distant relative――very distant――of ours. I mean that individual, person, nurse――whatever she was, who looked after you in your childhood.' 'Oh! My mother!' 'Well, yes, that worthy being whom you have been accustomed to so designate. Ancient domestics of that description are estimable, and, up to a certain point, useful; but beyond that point are liable to become insufferable nuisances. It is so difficult to get them to realise what is their proper place. They want the delicacy of intuition which should show them when to fall into the rear because no longer wanted. They are given to presume and become intolerable. It was high time for you to dissociate yourself from an individual of this description. You must excuse my frankness, but association with such a _personale_ has already infected your intonation. In a few years it would have been hopeless to have attempted to eradicate it. Happily, at your years, the vocal organs are still flexible and the ear has not been deformed. Yet dialect is not to be got rid of as easily as an unbecoming and unfashionable suit of clothes. We shall have to exert every effort on our part, meeting with response from you, to master this defect. What was the name of that woman?' Winefred's face became crimson. She moved uneasily on the seat. All her pleasure in the drive and at the novelty of the scenes was gone. Jesse, sitting opposite, misinterpreted her distress and attributed it to the references made by her mother to Winefred's provincial dialect and unfashionable gown. But such reflections in no way wounded the girl. That which troubled her was the slighting reference to her mother. She would have burst forth in vindication of one who was inexpressibly dear to her, but was restrained by recollection of the urgency of her mother, and of Mrs. Jose, not to allow herself to be drawn into a revelation of the true connection that existed between them. She was quite aware of the delicacy and difficulty of her situation. She passed under one name, her mother under another, and the circumstances were too obscure for her to be able to explain how this was.