“No, and alas! your ladyship.  It is partly the hot weather’s fault, for people seem to forget that winter must come; and partly, I suppose, that every one is stocked who has the money to pay four-and-sixpence a pair for stockings.”

“Then may I ask if you have any time in your active days at liberty?” said my lady, drawing a little nearer to her proposal, which I fancy she found it a little awkward to make.

“Why, the village keeps me busy, your ladyship, when I have neither knitting or sewing to do.  You know I took X. for my letter at the repository, because it stands for Xantippe, who was a great scold in old times, as I have learnt.  But I’m sure I don’t know how the world would get on without scolding, your ladyship.  It would go to sleep, and the sun would stand still.”

“I don’t think I could bear to scold, Miss Galindo,” said her ladyship, smiling.

“No! because your ladyship has people to do it for you.  Begging your pardon, my lady, it seems to me the generality of people may be divided into saints, scolds, and sinners.  Now, your ladyship is a saint, because you have a sweet and holy nature, in the first place; and have people to do your anger and vexation for you, in the second place.  And Jonathan Walker is a sinner, because he is sent to prison.  But here am I, half way, having but a poor kind of disposition at best, and yet hating sin, and all that leads to it, such as wasting, and extravagance, and gossiping,—­and yet all this lies right under my nose in the village, and I am not saint enough to be vexed at it; and so I scold.  And though I had rather be a saint, yet I think I do good in my way.”

“No doubt you do, dear Miss Galindo,” said Lady Ludlow.  “But I am sorry to hear that there is so much that is bad going on in the village,—­very sorry.”

“O, your ladyship! then I am sorry I brought it out.  It was only by way of saying, that when I have no particular work to do at home, I take a turn abroad, and set my neighbours to rights, just by way of steering clear of Satan.

   For Satan finds some mischief still
   For idle hands to do,

you know, my lady.”

There was no leading into the subject by delicate degrees, for Miss Galindo was evidently so fond of talking, that, if asked a question, she made her answer so long, that before she came to an end of it, she had wandered far away from the original starting point.  So Lady Ludlow plunged at once into what she had to say.

“Miss Galindo, I have a great favour to ask of you.”

“My lady, I wish I could tell you what a pleasure it is to hear you say so,” replied Miss Galindo, almost with tears in her eyes; so glad were we all to do anything for her ladyship, which could be called a free service and not merely a duty.