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“Very well,” she answered indifferently, as there entered upon them a little old lady in rustling silk and jingling beads an old lady with a sallow face and a piercing black eye, who welcomed Dick with a degree of fussy effusiveness, combined with a look and tone which discounted her words.

“Delighted to see you back, Mr. Richard a pleasure I have often looked forward to. We don’t welcome conquering heroes every day,” were in themselves sufficiently kindly words, but they were accompanied by a flash of the beady eyes from Dick to Alice, and a scrutiny of the young fellow’s appearance as searching as it was unsympathetic; and when a smile followed, overspreading her loose, leathery, wrinkled skin, the effect was full of uncanny suggestion.

“Yes, it is jolly to be back, and thanks very much,” said Dick civilly; “and it is charming to find you still here, Mrs. Parish.”

“Of course I am still here,” said the leathery little lady brusquely: as if Colonel Bristo could live without his faithful domestic despot, as if Graysbrooke could stand without its immemorial housekeeper! This Mrs. Parish was ugly, vain, and old, and had appeared as old and as vain and as ugly when, more than twenty years ago, she first entered the Colonel’s service. She had her good points, however, and a sense of duty according to her lights. Though it be no extravagant praise, she was a better person at heart than on the surface.