wise to sit down and rest while
we have our _tete-a-tete_. Since you've brought me here against my
will, it's the least you can do. Piers shall have tea with us before we
start. Miggles adores Piers."

"Miggles," formally known as Miss Miggs, was a well-known character in
the Goring _menage_, having been in succession, governess to Jean,
housekeeper during the period of Mr Goring's widowerhood, and
afterwards governess to the two sons of the second marriage. After so
many years of faithful service it seemed impossible to dispense with
Miggles's services, and in truth no one wished to do so, for she was one
of the cheery souls who carry sunshine as an atmosphere. According to
ordinary ideas, Miggles might have grumbled with the best, and demanded
a universal toll of sympathy, for she was the most solitary of units--a
woman who could not claim relationship with a angle soul in her own
hemisphere. She had passed her sixtieth birthday, and despite rigid
economies, possessed only a few hundred pounds between herself and want;
her health, never strong, showed signs of growing more precarious, and
an affection of the eyes shut her off from her loved pastimes of reading
and needlework. Nevertheless, Miggles was so far from being depressed
by such circumstances, that it had not even occurred to her that she
deserved to be pitied. This blessed state of mind had been achieved by
no conflict and struggle of the soul--no noble effort of will; religion
itself had contributed little towards it. Miggles's disposition was a
birthright for which she was seemingly as little responsible as for the
colour of her hair. As a child, when circumstances had offered a choice
between smiles and tears, she had instinctively elected to smile; as a
girl, the mere facts of life and movement had seemed sufficient to
ensure complete happiness; while later on she had been so much occupied
with being thankful for silver linings that the clouds themselves
flitted by attracting but scanty attention. In cheery, non-consequent
fashion, _she_ would discourse of her blessings by the hour together.

"Now, would you believe it, my dear, not a soul belonging to me nearer
than Australia--my nephew Henry, dear boy, but rash--such a pity! always
was, from a child. Thomas now--the elder brother--he would always save.
My mother was so particular about bringing us up to save. `_Instil_
good principles from the beginning' she would say. But however--what