“Very well, ma’am—­miss—­Miss Maryllia,” faltered Mrs. Spruce, fumbling distractedly with the tea-things, and putting cream and sugar recklessly into three or four cups without thinking; “There!  Really, I don’t know what I am a-doin’ of—­do you like cream and sugar, my dear?—­beggin’ your parding—­Miss Maryllia?”

“Yes, I like cream and sugar both,” replied the young lady with a mirthful gleam in her eyes, as she noted the old housekeeper’s confusion; “But don’t spoil the tea with either!  If you put too much cream, you will make the tea cold,—­if you put too much sugar, you will make it syrupy,—­you must arrive at the juste milieu in a cup of tea!  I am very particular!”

Poor Mrs. Spruce grew warmer and redder in the face than ever.  What was the ‘juste milieu’?  Often and often afterwards did she puzzle over that remarkable phrase.

“I think,” continued Maryllia, with a dimpling smile, “if you put one lump of sugar in the cup and two brimming tea-spoonfuls of cream, it will be exactly right!”

Gladly, and with relief, Mrs. Spruce obeyed these explicit instructions, and handed her new mistress the desired refreshment with assiduous and respectful care.

“You are a dear!” said Maryllia, lazily taking the cup from her hand; “Just the kindest and nicest of persons!  And good-tempered?  I am sure you are good-tempered, aren’t you?”

“Pretty well so, Miss,” responded Mrs. Spruce, now gaining courage to look at the fair smiling face opposite her own, more squarely and openly; “Leastways, I’ve been told I keeps my ’ead under any amount of kitchen jawin’.  For, as you may believe me, in a kitchen where there’s men as well as women, an’ a servants’ ‘All leadin’ straight through from the kitchen, jawin’ there is and jawin’ there must be, and such bein’ the Lord’s will, we must put up with it.  But it wants a ’ead to keep things straight, and I generally arranges pretty well, though I’ll not deny but I’m a bit flustered to-day,—­ howsomever, it will soon be all right, and any think that’s wrong, Miss, if you will be so good as to tell me—­”

“I will!” said Maryllia, sweetly; and she leaned back in her chair, whimsically surveying the garrulous old dame with eyes which Mrs. Spruce then and there discovered to be ’the most beautiful blue eyes ever seen,’—­“I will tell you all I do like, and all I don’t like.  I’m sure we shall get on well together.  The tea is perfect,—­and this room is exquisite.  In fact, everything is delightful, and I’m so happy to be in my own home once more!  I wish I had never left it!”

Her eyes darkened suddenly, and she sighed.  Mrs. Spruce watched her in submissive silence, realising as she gazed that Miss Maryllia was ‘a real beauty and no mistake.’  Why and how she came to that conclusion, she could not very well have explained.  Her ideas of feminine loveliness were somewhat hazy and restricted.  She privately considered her own girl, Kitty, ’the handsomest lass in