now,
and you'll find she has something to tell you. Only mind this. Don't
laugh at her when she speaks of trifles. She is half ashamed to speak of
trifles, even to me. Thinks men are above such matters, you know. Listen
quietly, and let her talk--and you will get at it all in that way."

The agent followed his instructions, and "got at it" as follows:

The woman remembered, perfectly well, being sent to clean the bedrooms
and put them tidy, after the gentlefolks had all left Gleninch. Her
mother had a bad hip at the time, and could not go with her and help
her. She did not much fancy being alone in the great house, after
what had happened in it. On her way to her work she passed two of
the cottagers' children in the neighborhood at play in the park. Mr.
Macallan was always kind to his poor tenants, and never objected to the
young ones round about having a run on the grass. The two children idly
followed her to the house. She took them inside, along with her--not
liking the place, as already mentioned, and feeling that they would be
company in the solitary rooms.

She began her work in the Guests' Corridor--leaving the room in the
other corridor, in which the death had happened, to the last.

There was very little to do in the two first rooms. There was not litter
enough, when she had swept the floors and cleaned the grates, to
even half fill the housemaid's bucket which she carried with her. The
children followed her about; and, all things considered, were "very good
company" in the lonely place.

The third room (that is to say, the bedchamber which had been occupied
by Miserrimus Dexter) was in a much worse state than the other two, and
wanted a great deal of tidying. She did not much notice the children
here, being occupied with her work. The litter was swept up from the
carpet, and the cinders and ashes were taken out of the grate, and the
whole of it was in the bucket, when her attention was recalled to the
children by hearing one of them cry.

She looked about the room without at first discovering them.

A fresh outburst of crying led her in the right direction, and showed
her the children under a table in a corner of the room. The youngest of
the two had got into a waste-paper basket. The eldest had found an old
bottle of gum, with a brush fixed in the cork, and was gravely painting
the face of the smaller child with what little remained of the contents
of the bottle. Some natural struggles, on the part of