“These are my hours, Spruce,” she said—­“And it will of course be your business to see that the work is done punctually and with proper method.  There must be no waste or extravagance,—­and you will bring me all the accounts every week, as I won’t have bills running up longer than that period.  I shall leave all the ordering in of provisions to you,—­if it ever happens that you send something to table which I don’t like, I will tell you, and the mistake need not occur again.  Now is there anything else?”—­and she paused meditatively, finger on lip, knitting her brows—­“You see I’ve never done any housekeeping, but I’ve always had notions as to how I should do it if I ever got the chance to try, and I’m just beginning.  I believe in method,—­and I like everything that has a place to be in in its place, and everything that has a time, to come up to its time.  It saves ever so much worry and trouble!  Now let me think!—­oh yes!—­I knew there was another matter.  Please let the gardeners and outdoor men generally know that if they want to speak to me, they can always see me from ten to half-past every morning.  And, by the way, Spruce, tell the maids to go about their work quietly,—­there is nothing more objectionable than a noise and fuss in the house just because a room is being swept and turned out.  I simply hate it!  In the event of any quarrels or complaints, please refer them to me—­and—­and—­” Here she paused again with a smile—­ “Yes!  I think that’s all—­for the present!  I haven’t yet gone through the library or the picture-gallery;—­however those rooms have nothing to do with the ordinary daily housekeeping,—­if I find anything wanting to be done there, I’ll send for you again.  But that’s about all now!”

Poor Mrs. Spruce curtseyed deferentially and tremulously.  She was not going to have it all her own way as she had fondly imagined when she first saw the apparently child-like personality of her new lady.  The child-like personality was merely the rose-flesh covering of a somewhat determined character.

“And anything I can do for you, Spruce, or for your husband,” continued Maryllia, dropping her business-like tone for one of as coaxing a sweetness as ever Shakespeare’s Juliet practised for the persuasion of her too tardy Nurse—­“will be done with ever so much pleasure!  You know that, don’t you?” And she laid her pretty little hands on the worthy woman’s portly shoulders—­“You shall go out whenever you like—­after work, of course!—­duty first, pleasure second!—­and you shall even grumble, if you feel like it,—­and have your little naps when the midday meal is done with,—­Aunt Emily’s housekeeper in London used to have them, and she snored dreadfully! the second footman—­quite a nice lad—­used to tickle her nose with a straw!  But I can’t afford to keep a second footman—­one is quite enough,—­or a coachman, or a carriage;—­besides, I would always rather ride than drive,—­and my groom, Bennett, will only want a stable-boy to help him with Cleo and Daffodil.  So I hope there’ll be no one downstairs to tease you, Spruce dear, by tickling your nose with a straw!  Primmins looks much too staid and respectable to think of such a thing.”