Before my toilet was completed, in marched my cousin Milly. We were to
breakfast alone that morning, 'and so much the better,' she told me.
Sometimes the Governor ordered her to breakfast with him, and 'never left
off chaffing her' till his newspaper came, and 'sometimes he said such
things he made her cry,' and then he only 'boshed her more,' and packed her
away to her room; but she was by chalks nicer than him, talk as he might.
'_Was_ not she nicer? was not she? was not she?' Upon this point she was so
strong and urgent that I was obliged to reply by a protest against awarding
the palm of elegance between parent and child, and declaring I liked her
very much, which I attested by a kiss.

'I know right well which of us you do think's the nicest, and no mistake,
only you're afraid of him; and he had no business boshing me last night
before you. I knew he was at it, though I couldn't twig him altogether; but
wasn't he a sneak, now, wasn't he?'

This was a still more awkward question; so I kissed her again, and said she
must never ask me to say of my uncle in his absence anything I could not
say to his face.

At which speech she stared at me for a while, and then treated me to one of
her hearty laughs, after which she seemed happier, and gradually grew into
better humour with her father.

'Sometimes, when the curate calls, he has me up--for he's as religious as
six, he is--and they read Bible and prays, ho--don't they? You'll have
that, lass, like me, to go through; and maybe I don't hate it; oh, no!'

We breakfasted in a small room, almost a closet, off the great parlour,
which was evidently quite disused. Nothing could be homelier than our
equipage, or more shabby than the furniture of the little apartment. Still,
somehow, I liked it. It was a total change; but one likes 'roughing it' a
little at first.

CHAPTER XXXIII

_THE WINDMILL WOOD_

I had not time to explore this noble old house as my curiosity prompted;
for Milly was in such a fuss to set out for the 'blackberry dell' that I
saw little more than just so much as I necessarily traversed in making my
way to and from my room.

The actual decay of the house had been prevented by my dear father; and
the roof, windows, masonry, and carpentry had all been kept in repair.
But short of indications of actual ruin, there are many manifestations of
poverty and neglect which impress with a feeling of desolation. It was
plain that not nearly a tithe of this