's
affairs but her own, and combined in the highest degree those qualities
of personal extravagance and general meanness which not unfrequently go
together.

A long voyage is no small test of temper; and it was a situation in
which Mrs. Minchin's best qualities shone. It was proportionably
unfavourable to those of the bride. Her maid was sick, and she was
slovenly. She was sick herself, and then her selfishness and discontent
knew no check. The other ladies bore their own little troubles, and
helped each other; but under the peevish egotism of the bride, her
warmest friends revolted. It was then that Mrs. Minchin resumed her sway
amongst us.

With Aunt Theresa she was soon reconciled. Mrs. Buller's memory was
always hazy, both in reference to what she said herself, and to what was
said to her. She was too good-natured to strain it to recall past
grievances. Her indignation had not lasted much beyond that afternoon in
which the bride scattered discord among her acquaintances. She had
relieved herself by outpouring the tale of Mrs. Minchin's treachery to
Uncle Buller, and then taking him warmly to task for the indifference
with which he heard her wrongs; and had ended by laughing heartily when
he compared the probable encounter between Mrs. Minchin and the bride to
the deadly struggles of two quarrelsome "praying-mantises" in his
collection.

[Major Buller was a naturalist, and took home some rare and beautiful
specimens of Indian insects.]

It was an outbreak of sickness amongst the little Curlings which led to
the reconciliation with the Quartermaster's wife. Neither her kindness
of heart nor her love of managing other folks' matters would permit Mrs.
Minchin to be passive then. She made the first advances, and poor Mrs.
Curling gratefully responded.

"I'm sure, Mrs. Minchin," said she, "I don't wonder at any one thinking
the children would be in the way, poor dears. But of course, as Curling
said----"

"GOD bless you, my good woman," Mrs. Minchin broke in. "Don't let us go
back to that. We all know pretty well what Mrs. Seymour's made of, now.
Let's go to the children. I'm as good a sick-nurse as most people, and
if you keep up your heart we'll pull them all through before we get to
the Cape."

But with all her zeal (and it did not stop short of a quarrel with the
surgeon) and all her devotion, which never slackened, Mrs. Minchin did
not "pull them all through."

We were just off the Cape when Arthur Curlin