She was going into a cottage, and in the doorway met the good woman chasing out a duck, and apparently unconscious of her visitor.

“Get out, Miss Galindo!” she cried, addressing the duck.  “Get out!  O, I ask your pardon,” she continued, as if seeing the lady for the first time.  “It’s only that weary duck will come in.  Get out Miss Gal—–­” (to the duck).

“And so you call it after, me, do you?” inquired her visitor.

“O, yes, ma’am; my master would have it so, for he said, sure enough the unlucky bird was always poking herself where she was not wanted.”

“Ha, ha! very good!  And so your master is a wit, is he?  Well! tell him to come up and speak to me to-night about my parlour chimney, for there is no one like him for chimney doctoring.”

And the master went up, and was so won over by Miss Galindo’s merry ways, and sharp insight into the mysteries of his various kinds of business (he was a mason, chimney-sweeper, and ratcatcher), that he came home and abused his wife the next time she called the duck the name by which he himself had christened her.

But odd as Miss Galindo was in general, she could be as well-bred a lady as any one when she chose.  And choose she always did when my Lady Ludlow was by.  Indeed, I don’t know the man, woman, or child, that did not instinctively turn out its best side to her ladyship.  So she had no notion of the qualities which, I am sure, made Mr. Horner think that Miss Galindo would be most unmanageable as a clerk, and heartily wish that the idea had never come into my lady’s head.  But there it was; and he had annoyed her ladyship already more than he liked to-day, so he could not directly contradict her, but only urge difficulties which he hoped might prove insuperable.  But every one of them Lady Ludlow knocked down.  Letters to copy?  Doubtless.  Miss Galindo could come up to the Hall; she should have a room to herself; she wrote a beautiful hand; and writing would save her eyesight.  “Capability with regard to accounts?” My lady would answer for that too; and for more than Mr. Horner seemed to think it necessary to inquire about.  Miss Galindo was by birth and breeding a lady of the strictest honour, and would, if possible, forget the substance of any letters that passed through her hands; at any rate, no one would ever hear of them again from her.  “Remuneration?” Oh! as for that, Lady Ludlow would herself take care that it was managed in the most delicate manner possible.  She would send to invite Miss Galindo to tea at the Hall that very afternoon, if Mr. Horner would only give her ladyship the slightest idea of the average length of time that my lady was to request Miss Galindo to sacrifice to her daily.  “Three hours!  Very well.”  Mr. Horner looked very grave as he passed the windows of the room where I lay.  I don’t think he liked the idea of Miss Galindo as a clerk.