s there, and guests, for the
matter of that; she insisted on it. He knew his place as well as any
man, but his eye fell on the rabbit and he looked very queer and nearly
dropped a cup. She saw it and began to tremble and go white, and it
came over me then that now or never was the time to clinch matters or
she'd nearly die from shame and I couldn't soothe her any more.

"Perhaps Hodges had better go out and bring in the rest of the toys,
ma'am," I says, very careless, not looking at her. "It's coming on for
rain. And he can take an umbrella ... shall he?"

She stiffened up and gave a sort of nod to him.

"Yes, Hodges, go," she said, half in a whisper, and he bit his lip, and
swallowed hard and said, "Very good, madam," and went.

Well, after that, you can see how it would be, can't you? One thing
led to another, and one time when she was not well for a few days and
rather low, I actually got the two little cribs down from the garret
and ran up some white draperies for them. She'd hardly let me leave
her, and indeed there was not so much work that I couldn't manage very
well. She gave all her orders through me and I was well pleased to do
for her and let Mr. Hodges manage things, which he did better than poor
old Shipman, I'll be bound. By the time we told her about Shipman's
death, she took it very easy--indeed, I think, she'd have minded
nothing by that time, she had grown so calm and almost healthy.

Mr. Hodges would never catch my eye and I never talked private any more
with him, but that was the only sign he didn't approve, and he never
spoke for about a month, but joined in with me by little and little and
never said a word but to shrug his shoulders when I ordered up a tray
with porringers on it for the nursery (she had a bad cold and got
restless and grieving). I left her in the nursery with the tray and
went out to him, for I saw he wished to speak to me at last.

"Dr. Stanchon would think well of this, if he was here. Is that your
idea, Miss Umbleby?" he said to me, very dry. (The doctor had never
come back, but gone to be head of a big asylum out in the west.)

"I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Hodges," I answered. "I think any doctor
couldn't but be glad to see her gaining every day, and when she feels
up to it and guests begin to come again, she'll get willing to see them
and forget the loss of the poor little things."

"The loss of _what_?" says he, frowning at me.

"Why, the children," I ans