That which gave both Mrs. Rexford and Sophia much perplexity in the first day or two of the new life was that the girl Eliza seemed to them to prove wholly incompetent.  She moved in a dazed and weary fashion which was quite inconsistent with the intelligence and capacity occasionally displayed in her remarks; and had they in the first three days been able to hear of another servant, Mrs. Rexford would have abruptly cancelled her agreement with Eliza.  At the end of that time, however, when there came a day on which Mrs. Rexford and Sophia were both too exhausted by unpacking and housework to take their ordinary share of responsibility, Eliza suddenly seemed to awake and shake herself into thought and action.  She cleared the house of the litter of packing-cases, set their contents in order, and showed her knowledge of the mysteries of the kitchen in a manner which fed the family and sent them to bed more comfortably than since their arrival.  From that day Eliza became more cheerful; and she not only did her own work, but often aided others in theirs, and set the household right in all its various efforts towards becoming a model Canadian home.  If the ladies had not had quite so much to learn, or if the three little children had not been quite so helpless, Eliza’s work would have appeared more effective.  As it was, the days passed on, and no tragedy occurred.

It was a great relief to Captain and Mrs. Rexford in those days to turn to Principal Trenholme for society and advice.  He was their nearest neighbour, and had easy opportunity for being as friendly and kind as he evidently desired to be.  Captain Rexford pronounced him a fine fellow and a perfect gentleman.  Captain Rexford had great natural courtesy of disposition.

“I suppose, Principal Trenholme,” said he blandly, as he entertained his visitor one day in the one family sitting-room, “I suppose that you are related to the Trenholmes of——?”

Trenholme was playing with one of the little ones who stood between his knees.  He did not instantly answer—­indeed, Captain Rexford’s manner was so deliberate that it left room for pauses.  Sophia, in cloak and fur bonnet, was standing by the window, ready to take the children for their airing.  Trenholme found time to look up from his tiny playmate and steal a glance at her handsome profile as she gazed, with thoughtful, abstracted air, out upon the snow.  “Not a very near connection, Captain Rexford,” was his reply; and it was given with that frank smile which always leaped first to his eyes before it showed itself about his mouth.

It would have been impossible for a much closer observer than Captain Rexford to have told on which word of this small sentence the emphasis had been given, or whether the smile meant that Principal Trenholme could have proved his relationship had he chosen, or that he laughed at the notion of there being any relationship at all.  Captain Rexford accordingly interpreted it just as suited his inclination, and mentioned to another neighbour in the course of a week that his friend, the Principal of the College, was a distant relative, by a younger branch probably, of the Trenholmes of—­, etc. etc., an item of news of which the whole town took account sooner or later.