“But you should have seen how vexed St. George looked.  He had no idea, he said, that I should ever think of leaving him; and, indeed, I may mention to you in confidence, both of you, that he always drew for me what money I said was wanted for the bills, and he no more thought of looking at my housekeeping books than my father did.”

“Really,” said Valentine.

He was quite aware of this, to him, insignificant fact, but to have said more would only have put her out, and he wanted her to talk just then.

“And so,” she continued slowly, “I said to him, I said, ’My dear Giles, I have had a pleasant home in this house, many, many years, indeed, ever since you were a child; but it is my opinion (and you will find it is the general opinion) that every young wife should have her house to herself.’  I did not doubt at all that this was her opinion too, only I considered that as he had spoken so plainly, she might not like to say so.”

“No, very likely not,” said John, when she stopped, as if stranded, till somebody helped her on with a remark.

“You are quite right, John, any one might have thought so; but in a minute or two.  ‘Well,’ said St. George, ‘this is rather a blow;’ and what does that pretty creature do but come and sit by me, and begin to coax me.  ’She wanted me so much, and it would be so kind if I would but stop and do as I always had done, and she would be so careful to please me, and she had always thought the house was so beautifully managed, and everything in such order, and so regular.’”

“So it is,” Valentine put in.  “She is quite right there.”

“‘And she didn’t know how to order the dinner,’ she said; and so she went on, till I said, ’Well, my dears, I don’t wish that there should be any mistake about this for want of a little plain speaking.’”

“Well?” said John, when she came to a dead stop.

“And she said, ’You love St. George, don’t you, just as much as if he was related to you?’ ‘How can any one help loving him?’ ’And I know if you leave us he won’t be half so comfortable.  And nobody should ever interfere with you,’ So I said I would keep their house for them, and you may suppose how glad I was to say it, for I’m like a cat, exactly like a cat—­I don’t like to leave a place that I am used to, and it would have been difficult for her to manage.”

“Yes, very.”

“I had often been thinking, when I supposed I had to go, that she would never remember to see that the table-linen was all used in its proper turn, and to have the winter curtains changed for white ones before the sun faded them.”

“You’re such a comfortable, dear thing to live with,” observed Valentine, now the narrative was over.  “Everybody likes you, you know.”

Mrs. Henfrey smiled complacently, accepting the compliment.  She was, to all strangers, an absolutely uninteresting woman; but her family knew her merits, and Giles and Valentine were both particularly alive to them.