“That settles the affair, my darling.  If you do not decidedly wish it, it shall never be done.”

She drew his face down to hers and kissed it.

“You are so good to me,” she said, gently.  “You bear so much for my sake.  I know that you will not mind a little inconvenience every now and then.  I am sure you will not.”

“No; if you wish her to stay she shall do so,” said Sir Roland; but I, who know every play of his features, feel quite sure that he was not pleased.

Little was said the next morning at breakfast time.  Sir Roland said hurriedly that Lady Tayne did not wish to change; she was attached to the old housekeeper, and did not like to lose her.  Miss Reinhart listened with a gentle, sympathetic face.

“Yes,” she said, “it will, of course, be much more pleasant for Lady Tayne, but you should be considered as well.  I know of a person, a most excellent, economical managing woman, who is competent in every way to undertake the situation.  Still, if I cannot serve you in one way, can I not in another?  Shall I try to make matters easier for Mrs. Eastwood?  I understand housekeeping very well.  I could do some good, I think!”

“You are very kind to offer,” he said.  “I really do not like to complain to Lady Tayne.  She cannot possibly help it, and it distresses her.  Not that there is much the matter, only a few little irregularities; but then you will not have time.”

“If you give me the permission,” she said, “I will make the time.”

“It would really be a kindness,” he said, “and I am very grateful to you indeed.  Perhaps you will be kind enough just to overlook matters for me.”

I was with them, listening in fear and trembling, for I knew quite well that Mrs. Eastwood would never submit to the rule of my governess.  No woman on earth ever played her cards so skillfully as Miss Reinhart.  She did not begin by interfering with the housekeeping at once; that would not have been policy; she was far too wise.

She began by small reforms.  The truth must be told.  Since my mother’s long illness our household had in some measure relaxed from its good discipline.  At first Miss Reinhart only interfered with the minor arrangements.  She made little alterations, all of which were conducive to my father’s comfort, and he was very grateful.  When he saw that she did so well in one direction, he asked her to help in another; and at last came, what I had foreseen, a collision with Mrs. Eastwood.

The Wars of the Roses were nothing to it.  But for the pitiful tragedy embodied in it, I could have laughed as at a farce.  Miss Reinhart was valiant, but Mrs. Eastwood was more valiant still.  The whole household ranged itself on one side or the other.  The old servants were all on the housekeeper’s side, the new ones went with Miss Reinhart.

“A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  Ours did not.  Before long the rival powers came into collision, and there was a declaration of war—­war to the knife!