“I am relieved,” said Bertha; “it seemed to me just possible that we had been guilty of a serious indiscretion.  Good intentions are very dangerous things.”

When next Warburton found time to go to Holloway, he heard all about the ladies’ visit.  He learnt, moreover, that Mr. Potts had told them the story of his kindness to the sick lad at St. Kitts, and of his first visit to Kennington Lane.

CHAPTER 45

When Bertha, at her mother’s request, undertook the control of the house, she knew very well what was before her.

During a whole fortnight, Mrs. Cross faithfully adhered to the compact.  For the first time in her life, she declared, she was enjoying peace.  Feeling much shaken in her nervous system, she rose late, retired early, and, when downstairs, reclined a good deal on the sofa.  She professed herself unable to remember the new servant’s name, and assumed an air of profound abstraction whenever “what do you call her” came into the room.  Not a question did she permit herself as to the details of household management.  Bertha happening (incautiously) to complain of a certain joint supplied by the butcher, Mrs. Cross turned a dreamy eye upon it, and said, in the tone of one who speaks of long ago, “In my time he could always be depended upon for a small shoulder”; then dismissed the matter as in no way concerning her.

But repose had a restorative effect, and, in the third week, Mrs. Cross felt the revival of her energies.  She was but fifty-three years old, and in spite of languishing habits, in reality had very fair health.  Caring little for books, and not much for society, how was she to pass her time if denied the resource of household affairs?  Bertha observed the signs of coming trouble.  One morning, her mother came downstairs earlier than usual, and after fidgeting about the room, where her daughter was busy at her drawing-board, suddenly exclaimed: 

“I wish you would tell that girl to make my bed properly.  I haven’t closed my eyes for three nights, and I ache from head to foot.  The way she neglects my room is really shameful—­”

There followed intimate details, to which Bertha listened gravely.

“That shall be seen to at once, mother,” she replied, and left the room.

The complaint, as she suspected, had very little foundation.  It was only the beginning; day after day did Mrs. Cross grumble about this, that and the other thing, until Bertha saw that the anticipated moment was at hand.  The great struggle arose out of that old point of debate, the servant’s meals.  Mrs. Cross, stealing into the kitchen, had caught a glimpse of Sarah’s dinner, and so amazed was she, so stirred with indignation to the depth of her soul, that she cast off all show of respect for the new order, and overwhelmed Bertha with rebukes.  Her daughter listened quietly until the torrent had spent its force, then said with a smile: