"We must have a coachman--Karl thinks he shall take on Sir Joseph's; the man has asked to come--and, I suppose, one footman to help Hewitt, and a groom. That's all. I think we have enough maids now." "You should consider that Sir Karl's income is a large one, Lucy," spoke Miss Blake in a tone of lofty reproach. "It is absurd to take your papa's scale of living as a guide for yours." "But Sir Karl does not mean to spend his income: he has a reason for saving it." "Oh that's another thing," said Miss Blake. "What is his reason?" The young Lady Andinnian could have punished her rebellious tongue. She had spoken the hasty words "he has a reason for saving it" in the heat of argument, without thought. What right, either as a wife or a prudent woman, had she to allow allusion to it to escape her lips? Her rejoinder was given slowly and calmly. "My husband is quite right not to begin by spending all his income, Theresa. We should both of us think it needless extravagance. Is this the kitchen? Let us go in here first. I must get acquainted with all my places and people." The business transacted, Lucy went out with Karl. Theresa watched them on to the lawn and thence round the house, Lucy in her broad-brimmed straw hat, and her arm within her husband's. Miss Blake then dressed herself and walked rapidly to St. Jerome's. Some faint hope animated her that Mr. Cattacomb might have arrived, and be already inaugurating the morning service. But no. St. Jerome's was closely shut, and no Mr. Cattacomb was there. She retraced her steps, lingering to rob the hedges of a wild honeysuckle or a dog-rose. This non-arrival of Mr. Cattacomb began to trouble her, and she could not imagine why, if he were prevented coming, he had not written to say so. Reaching the Maze, Miss Blake woke up from these thoughts with quite a start of surprise: for the gate was open and a woman servant stood there, holding colloquy with the butcher's boy on horseback: a young man in a blue frock, no hat, and a basket on his arm. A middle-aged and very respectable looking servant, but somewhat old-fashioned in her appearance: a spare figure straight up and down, in a black-and-white cotton gown and white muslin cap tied with black ribbon strings. In her hand was a dish with some meat on it, which she had just received from the basket, and she appeared to be reproaching the boy on the score of the last joint's toughness. "This hot weather one can't keep nothing properly," said the boy, in apology. "I was to ask for the book, please, ma'am." "The book!" returned the woman. "Why I meant to have brought it out. Wait there, and I'll get it."