t is an awful thing
to say, Mr. Graham, but Satan has sometimes put it into my heart to wish
that the woman, like too, too many of her sort, was the victim of
alcoholic temptations. He has a fearful temper, and if once she was not
fit for duty at one of his dinners, this awful gnawing anxiety would
cease to ride my bosom. He would pack her off.'

'Very natural. She is free from the besetting sin of the artistic
temperament?'

'If you mean drink, she is; and that is one reason why he values her. His
last cook, and his last but one--' Here Mrs. Gisborne narrated at some
length the tragic histories of these artists.

'Providential, I thought it, but now,' she said despairingly.

'She certainly seems a difficult woman to dislodge,' said Merton. 'A
dangerous entanglement. Any followers allowed? Could anything be done
through the softer emotions? Would a guardsman, for instance--?'

'She hates the men. Never one of them darkens her kitchen fire. Offers
she has had by the score, but they come by post, and she laughs and burns
them. Old Mr. Potter, one of his cronies, tried to get her away _that_
way, but he is over seventy, and old at that, and she thought she had
another chance to better herself. And she'll take it, Mr. Graham, if you
can't do something: she'll take it.'

'Will you permit me to say that you seem to know a good deal about her!
Perhaps you have some sort of means of intelligence in the enemy's camp?'

'The kitchen maid,' said Mrs. Gisborne, purpling a little, 'is the sister
of our servant, and tells her things.'

'I see,' said Merton. 'Now can you remember any little weakness of this,
I must frankly admit, admirable artist and exemplary woman?'

'You are not going to take her side, a scheming red-faced hussy, Mr.
Graham?'

'I never betrayed a client, Madam, and if you mean that I am likely to
help this person into your uncle's arms, you greatly misconceive me, and
the nature of my profession.'

'I beg your pardon, sir, but I will say that your heart does not seem to
be in the case.'

'It is not quite the kind of case with which we are accustomed to deal,'
said Merton. 'But you have not answered my question. Are there any weak
points in the defence? To Venus she is cold, of Bacchus she is
disdainful.'

'I never heard of the gentlemen I am sure, sir, but as to her weaknesses,
she has the temper of a--' Here Mrs. Gisborne paused for a comparison.
Her knowledge of natural history a