They had an early tea, and then Mr. Chickerel, sitting in a patriarchal
chair, conversed pleasantly with his guest, being well acquainted with
him through other members of the family. They talked of Julian's
residence at different Italian towns with his sister; of Faith, who was
at the present moment staying with some old friends in Melchester: and,
as was inevitable, the discourse hovered over and settled upon
Ethelberta, the prime ruler of the courses of them all, with little
exception, through recent years.

'It was a hard struggle for her,' said Chickerel, looking reflectively
out at the fir trees. 'I never thought the girl would have got through
it. When she first entered the house everybody was against her. She had
to fight a whole host of them single-handed. There was the viscount's
brother, other relations, lawyers, ladies, servants, not one of them was
her friend; and not one who wouldn't rather have seen her arrive there in
evil relationship with him than as she did come. But she stood her
ground. She was put upon her mettle; and one by one they got to feel
there was somebody among them whose little finger, if they insulted her,
was thicker than a Mountclere's loins. She must have had a will of iron;
it was a situation that would have broken the hearts of a dozen ordinary
women, for everybody soon knew that we were of no family, and that's what
made it so hard for her. But there she is as mistress now, and everybody
respecting her. I sometimes fancy she is occasionally too severe with
the servants and I know what service is. But she says it is necessary,
owing to her birth; and perhaps she is right.'

'I suppose she often comes to see you?'

'Four or five times a year,' said Picotee.

'She cannot come quite so often as she would,' said Mrs. Chickerel,
'because of her lofty position, which has its juties. Well, as I always
say, Berta doesn't take after me. I couldn't have married the man even
though he did bring a coronet with him.'

'I shouldn't have cared to let him ask ye,' said Chickerel. 'However,
that's neither here nor there--all ended better than I expected. He's
fond of her.'

'And it is wonderful what can be done with an old man when you are his
darling,' said Mrs. Chickerel.

'If I were Berta I should go to London oftener,' said Picotee, to turn
the conversation. 'But she lives mostly in the library. And, O, what do
you think? She is writing an epic poem, and employs Emmel