but neither of them really saw much of him.  He never interfered in the household affairs, Miss Vaughan giving such instructions as were necessary.  The man spent most of his time in the grounds, and the woman in the kitchen.  She was a little petulant over the fact that one of the Hindus—­the “ugly one”—­refused to eat her cooking, but insisted on preparing his own food.  Also, the housemaid had told her that there was a snake, but she had never seen it.

From the Irish housemaid a little more information was obtained.  Neither Mr. Vaughan nor the yogi ate any breakfast; indeed, they rarely left their rooms before noon.  The other Hindu mixed himself up some sort of mess over the kitchen stove.  Miss Vaughan breakfasted alone at nine o’clock.  At such times, she was accustomed to talk over household affairs with the maid, and after breakfast would visit the kitchen and make a tour of the grounds and garden.  The remainder of her day would be spent in reading, in playing the piano, in doing little household tasks, or in walking about the grounds with her father.  Yes, sometimes the yogi would join them, and there would be long discussions.  After dinner, in the library, there would also be long discussions, but the girl had no idea what they were about.  She heard a fragment of them occasionally, but had never been able to make anything of them.  In fact, from the way they dressed and all, she had come to the conclusion that Mr. Vaughan and the yogi were both a little crazy, but quite inoffensive and harmless.

“And how about Miss Vaughan?” asked the coroner.

“Miss Vaughan, bless her heart, wasn’t crazy,” said the girl quickly; “not a bit of it.  She was just sad and lonely,—­as who wouldn’t be!  She never went out—­in the five months I’ve been here, she’s never been off the place; and them front gates was never opened to let anybody in.  The only people who come in were the grocer and milk-man and such-like, through the little door at the side.”

“You say you have been here five months?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you come to apply for the place?”

“I didn’t apply for it.  I was sent here by an employment bureau.  Miss Marjorie engaged me.  I didn’t see the Hindus till afterwards, or I don’t think I’d have took it.  After that, I stayed for Miss Marjorie’s sake.”

“You thought she needed you?”

“Yes, I did.  With her father moonin’ round in a kind of trance, and the yogi lookin’ at her with eyes like live coals, and a snake that stood on its tail, and the other naygur going around with nothin’ on but a diaper, I thought she needed somebody to look after her; and says I, ‘Annie Crogan, you’re the girl to do it!’”

There was a ripple of laughter and the pencils of the reporters flew across their paper.  It was the first gleam to enliven a prosaic and tiresome hearing.

“Were the Hindus obtrusive in any way?” asked the coroner.