ed dumpling of a woman is Penny; an
Englishwoman, too, from the Midlands, where the letter H is reserved by
many persons of her social standing for the sake of special emphasis
only. I find by calculation that she first saw the light at least
seventy years ago, but she is reticent upon that subject. All the
precise information I have ever extracted from her on the point is that
she is not so young as she once was--which is self-evident! But young
or old, she is brisk and active, both in mind and body, still. Such a
devoted old soul, too! She would go to the stake cheerfully for either
of us, but for Val she entertains an almost superstitious reverence,
which would be amusing were it not touching. When speaking of him to
the natives, she invariably styles him "the Priest." I imagine she
looks for a higher place above, in recognition of her early services to
him.

Penny was already a young married woman when she came into the service
of our family. Her history, as I have learned it from her own lips,
will be worth narrating, if I can find room for it in these pages.

Elsie is Penny's "lady in waiting"; she is too youthful as yet to have
made history. She hails from a neighboring farm, and is a really
satisfactory handmaid--ready, cheerful, and diligent; she entertains a
thoroughly genuine respect for her superior officer, "Mistress Spence,"
in spite of the latter's somewhat severe notions as to the training of
young servants. In appearance Elsie is much like any other Scottish
lassie of her age--not strikingly beautiful, nor yet ugly; just
pleasant to look upon. Her most conspicuous trait is a smile which
appears to be chronic. One cannot help wondering what she looks like
on occasions when a smile is out of place--at her prayers, or at a
funeral, for instance. I am quite prepared to maintain that she does
not lose it during sleep; for though I have noticed it growing deeper
and broader when she has reason to feel more than usual satisfaction
(e.g., when Penny unthinkingly utters a word of praise), it never
entirely disappears during the daytime.

There is another personage who deserves special mention; for not only
is he an important item in our establishment, but a very special crony
of mine. This is Willy Paterson (known locally, by-the-bye, as "the
Priest's Wully"), our gardener, groom, coachman (when required), and
general handy man. Willy is a wiry, wrinkled, white-haired little
man--little now, be