Kate Carnegie and Those Ministers

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"The Doctor's failin', Becca, an' it's no tae be expeckit that a 'll be
lang aifter him; it wudna be fittin', an' a 'm no wantin' 't. Aifter
ye 've carried the bukes afore ae minister for five and thirty year,
ye're no anxious for a change; naebody 'll ever come doon the kirkyaird
like the Doctor, an' a' cudna brak ma step; na, na, there's no mony
things a' michtna learn, but a' cudna brak ma step."

Rebecca went on with her dinner in silence; even capable men had
weaknesses somewhere, and she was accustomed to those moralisings.

"A 'm the auldest beadle in the Presbytery o' Muirtown--though a' say
it as sudna--an' the higher the place the mair we 'll hae tae answer
for, Becca. Nae man can hold the poseetion a 'm in withoot anxieties.
Noo there wes the 'Eruption' in '43"--it could not be ignorance which
made John cling to this word, and so we supposed that the word was
adopted in the spirit of historical irony--"that wes a crisis. Did a'
ever tell ye, Rebecca, that there wes juist ae beadle left the next
morning tae cairry on the Presbytery of Muirtown?"

"Ay, forty times an' mair," replied that uncompromising woman, "an' it
wud set ye better tae be servin' the Doctor's lunch than sittin'
haverin' an' blawin' there."

No sane person in Drumtochty would have believed that any human being
dared to address John after this fashion, and it is still more
incredible that the great man should have risen without a word and gone
about his duty. Such a surprising and painful incident suggests the
question whether a beadle or any other person in high position ought to
be married, and so be exposed to inevitable familiarities. Hillocks
took this view strongly in the kirkyard at the time of John's
marriage--although neither he nor any one knew with how much
reason--and he impressed the fathers powerfully.

"Becca cam frae Kilspindie Castle near thirty year syne, and John's
took the bukes aboot the same time; they've agreed no that ill for sic
a creetical poseetion a' that time, him oot an' her in, an' atween them
the Doctor's no been that ill-servit; they micht hae lat weel alane.

"She 's no needin' a man tae keep her," and Hillocks proceeded to
review the situation, "for Becca's hed a gude place, an' she disna
fling awa' her siller on dress. As for John, a' canna mak him oot, for
he gets his stockin's darned and his white stock dune as weel an' maybe
better than if he wes mairried."

The kirkyard could see no solution of the problem, and Hillocks grew
pessimistic.

"It 'll be a doon-come tae him, a 'm judgin', an' 'll no be for the
gude o' the parish. He 's never been crossed yet, an' he 'll no tak
weel wi' contradickin' . . ."

"She wudna daur," broke in Whinny, "an' him the beadle."

"Ye ken little aboot weemen," retorted Hillocks, "for yir gude-wife is
by hersel' in the pairish, an' micht be a sanct; the maist o' them are
a camsteary lot. A 'm no sayin'," he summed up, "that Becca 'll gie
the beadle the word back or refuse to dae his biddin', but she 'll be
pittin' forrit her ain opeenions, an' that's no what he 's been
accustomed tae in Drumtochty."

They were married one forenoon in the study, with Drumsheugh and Domsie
for witnesses--the address given by the Doctor could hardly be
distinguished from an ordination charge--and John announced his
intention of accompanying his master that afternoon to the General
Assembly, while Rebecca remained in charge of the manse.

"It wudna be wise-like for us twa," exclaimed the beadle, "tae be
stravagin' ower the country for three or fower days like wild geese,
but the pairish micht expect something. Noo, a 've hed ma share o' a
Presbytery an' a Synod, tae say naethin' o' Kirk Sessions, but a 've
never seen an Assembly.

"Gin you cud get a place, a' wud spend ma time considering hoo the
officer comes in, and hoo he lays doon the buke an' sic-like; a' micht
get a hint," said John, with much modesty.

So John went alone for his wedding tour, and being solemnly introduced
to Thomas, the chief of all beadles, discussed mysteries with him unto
great edification; but he was chiefly impressed by the Clerk of the
Free Kirk Assembly--into which he had wandered on an errand of
exploration--who was a fiery-faced old gentleman with a stentorian
voice and the heart of a little child.

"Ye never heard him cry, 'Officer, shut the door,' afore a vote?" he
inquired of the Doctor. "Weel, ye 've missed a real pleesure, sir; gin
ye stude on Princes Street, wi' the wind frae the richt airt, ye micht
hear him. A' never heard onything better dune; hoo ony man wi' sic a
face and voice cud be content ootside the Auld Kirk passes me."

John was so enamoured of this performance that after much cogitation he
unburdened his mind to the Doctor, and showed how such a means of grace
might be extended to Drumtochty.

"Noo, if there wes nae objection in order, aifter ye hed settled in the
pulpit, an' hed yir first snuff, ye micht say, 'Officer, shut the
door.' Then a' wud close the kirk door deleeberately in sicht o' the
hale congregation an' come back tae ma place, an' Peter Rattray himsel'
wudna daur tae show his face aifter that. Ye hae the voice an' the
manner, Doctor, an' it's no richt tae wyste them."

In public John defended the Doctor's refusal as a proof of his
indulgence to the prodigals of the parish, but with his intimates he
did not conceal his belief that the opportunity had been lost of
bringing the service in Drumtochty Kirk to absolute perfection. John's
own mind still ran on the mighty utterance, and so it came to pass that
the question of mastery in the kitchen of the manse under the new
_regime_ was settled within a week after his ecclesiastical honeymoon.

"Rebecca"--this with a voice of thunder from the fireplace, where the
beadle was reading the _Muirtown Advertiser_--"shut the door."

The silence was so imperative that John turned round, and saw his
spouse standing with a half-dried dish in her hand.

[Illustration: Standing with a half-dried dish in her hand.]

"Ma name is Rebecca," as she recovered her speech, "an' there 's nae
ither wumman in the hoose, but a 'm judgin' ye werena speakin' tae me
or"--with awful severity--"ye 've made a mistak', an' the suner it's
pit richt the better for baith you an' me an' the manse o' Drumtochty.

"For near thirty year ye 've gane traivellin' in an' oot o' this
kitchen withoot cleanin' yir feet, and ye 've pit yir shoon on the
fender, an' hung up yir weet coat on the back o' the door, an'
commandit this an' that as if ye were the Doctor himsel', an' a' cud
dae naethin', for ye were beadle o' Drumtochty.

"So a' saw there wes nae ither wy o't but tae mairry ye an' get some
kind of order in the hoose; noo ye 'll understand the poseetion an' no
need anither tellin'; ootside in the kirk an' pairish ye 're maister,
an' a 'll never conter ye, for a' ken ma place as a kirk member an' yir
place as beadle; inside in this hoose a 'm maister, an' ye 'll dae what
ye 're bid, always in due submission tae the Doctor, wha 's maister
baith in an' oot. Tak yir feet aff that steel bar this meenut"--this
by way of practical application; and when after a brief pause, in which
the fate of an empire hung in the balance, John obeyed, the two chief
officials in the parish had made their covenant.

Perhaps it is unnecessary to add that they carefully kept their bounds,
so that Becca would no more have thought of suggesting a new attitude
to John as he stood at the foot of the pulpit stair waiting for the
Doctor's descent than John would have interfered with the cooking of
the Doctor's dinner. When the glass was set at fair, they even
exchanged compliments, the housekeeper expressing her sense of
unworthiness as she saw John in his high estate, while he would
indicate that the Doctor's stock on Sacrament Sabbath reached the
highest limits of human attainment. The Doctor being left to the
freedom of his own will, laboured at a time to embroil the powers by
tempting them to cross one another's frontiers, but always failed,
because they foresaw the consequences with a very distinct imagination.
If he asked Rebecca to convey a message to Drumsheugh, that cautious
woman would send in John to receive it from the Doctor's own lips, and
if the Doctor gave some directions regarding dinner to John, Rebecca
would appear in a few minutes to learn what the Doctor wanted. It was
an almost complete delimitation of frontiers, and the Doctor used to
say that he never quite understood the Free Kirk theory of the relation
between Church and State till he considered the working agreement of
his two retainers. It was, he once pleasantly said to the minister of
Kildrummie, a perfect illustration of "co-ordinate jurisdiction with
mutual subordination." It is just possible that some one may not fully
grasp those impressive words, in which case let him appreciate other
people's accomplishments and mourn his ignorance, for they were common
speech in Drumtochty, and were taught at their porridge to the Free
Kirk children.

It is an unfortunate circumstance, however, that even a scientific
frontier wavers at places, and leaves a piece of doubtful territory
that may at any moment become a cause of war. Surely there is not on
the face of the Scottish earth a more unoffending, deferential,
conciliatory person than a "probationer," who on Saturdays can be seen
at every country junction, bag in hand, on his patient errand of
"supply," and yet it was over his timid body the great powers of the
manse twice quarrelled disastrously. As a guest in the manse, to be
received on Saturday evening, to be conducted to his room, to be fed
and warmed, to go to his bed at a proper hour--ten on Saturday and
ten-thirty on Sabbath--to be sent away on Monday morning in good time
for the train, he was within the province of Rebecca. As a minister to
be examined, advised, solemnised, encouraged, to be got ready on
Sabbath morning and again disrobed, to be edified with suitable
conversation and generally made as fit as possible for his work, he was
evidently within John's sphere of influence. It was certainly the
beadle's business to visit the dining-room on Saturday evening, where
the young man was supposed to be meditating against the ordeal of the
morrow, to get the Psalms for the precentor, to answer strictly
professional questions, and generally to advise the neophyte about the
sermon that would suit Drumtochty, and the kind of voice to be used.
One thing John knew perfectly well he ought not to do, and that was to
invite a probationer to spend the evening in the Doctor's study, for on
this point Rebecca was inexorable.

"A' dinna say that they wud read the Doctor's letters, an' a' dinna say
they wud tak a buke as a keepsake, but a' can never forget ane o'
them--he hed a squint and red hair--comin' oot frae the cupboard as a'
opened the door.

"'There 's juist ae wy oot o' the room, an' it's by the door ye cam in
at,' a' said; 'maybe ye wud like tae come an' sit in the dinin'-room;
ye 'll be less distrackit.'" And Rebecca charged John that no
probationer should in future be allowed to enter the Doctor's sanctum
on any consideration.

John's excuse for his solitary fault was that the lad thought that he
could study his sermon better with books round him, and so Rebecca
found the young gentleman seated in the Doctor's own chair and working
with the Doctor's own pen, unblushing and shameless.

"Gin ye want Cruden's _Concordance_"--this was when Rebecca had led him
out a chastened man--"or Matthew Henry tae fill up yir sermon, the
books 'll be brocht by the church officer."

Rebecca's intrusion, in turn, into John's sphere was quite without
excuse, and she could only explain her conduct by a general reference
to the foolishness of the human heart. It came out through the
ingenuousness of the probationer, who mentioned casually that he was
told Drumtochty liked four heads in the sermon.

"May I ask the name of yir adviser?" said the beadle, with awful
severity. "The hoosekeeper? A' thocht so, an' a' wud juist gie ye due
intimation that the only person qualified an' entitled tae gie ye
information on sic subjects is masel', an' ony ither is unjustified an'
unwarranted.

"Fower heads? Three an' an application is the Doctor's invariable
rule, an' gin a probationer gied oot a fourth, a' winna undertake tae
say what michtna happen. Drumtochty is no a pairish tae trifle wi',
an' it disna like new-fangled wys. Power!" and the scorn for this
unorthodox division was withering.

Rebecca realised the gravity of the situation in the kitchen, and
humbled herself greatly.

"It wes as a hearer that he askit ma opinion, an' no as an authority.
He said that the new wy wes tae leave oot heads, an' a' saw a' the hay
spread oot across the field, so a' told him tae gither it up intae
'coles' (hay-cocks), an' it wud be easier lifted. Maybe a' mentioned
fower--a 'll no deny it; but it's the first time a' ever touched on
heads, an' it 'll be the laist."

Upon those terms of penitence, John granted pardon, but it was noticed
on Sabbath that when Becca got in the way of the retiring procession to
the manse, the beadle was heard in the kirkyard, "Oot o' ma road,
wumman," in a tone that was full of judgment, and that Rebecca withdrew
to the grass as one justly punished.

This excellent woman once accomplished her will, however, in spite of
John, and had all her days the pleasant relish of a secret triumph.
Her one unfulfilled desire was to see the Doctor in his court dress
which he wore as Moderator of the Kirk of Scotland during the Assembly
time, and which had lain ever since in a box with camphor and such
preservatives amid the folds. It was aggravating to hear Drumsheugh
and Hillocks--who had both gone to the Assembly that year for the sole
purpose of watching the Doctor enter and bow to the standing
house--enlarging on his glory in velvet and lace and silver buckles,
and growing in enthusiasm with the years.

"It's little better than a sin," she used to insist, "tae see the
bonnie suit gien the Doctor by the Countess o' Kilspindie, wi' dear
knows hoo much o' her ain auld lace on 't, lyin' useless, wi' naebody
tae get a sicht o't on his back. Dinna ye think, man"--this with much
persuasiveness--"that ye cud get the Doctor tae pit on his velvets on
an occasion, maybe a Saicrament? The pairish wud be lifted; an' ye wud
look weel walkin' afore him in his lace."

"Dinna plead wi' me, wumman; a' wud gie a half-year's wages tae see him
in his grandeur; but it 's offeecial, div ye no see, an' canna be used
except by a Moderator. Na, na, ye can dust and stroke it, but ye 'll
never see yon coat on the Doctor."

This was little less than a challenge to a woman of spirit, and Rebecca
simply lived from that day to clothe the Doctor in embroidered
garments. Her opportunity arrived when Kate's birthday came round, and
the Doctor insisted on celebrating it by a party of four. By the
merest accident his housekeeper met Miss Carnegie on the road, and
somehow happened to describe the excellent glory of the Doctor's full
dress, whereupon that wilful young woman went straight to the manse,
nor left till the Doctor had promised to dine in ruffles, in which case
she pledged herself that the General would come in uniform, and she
would wear the family jewels, so that everything would be worthy of the
Doctor's dinner.

"Hoo daur ye," began John, coming down from the Doctor's room, where
the suit was spread upon the bed; but his wife did not allow him to
continue, explaining that the thing was none of her doing, and that it
was only becoming that honour should be shown to Miss Carnegie when she
dined for the first time at the manse of Drumtochty.

CHAPTER XVI.

DRIED ROSE LEAVES.

Townspeople are so clever, and know so much, that it is only just
something should be hidden from their sight, and it is quite certain
that they do not understand the irresistible and endless fascination of
the country. They love to visit us in early autumn, and are vastly
charmed with the honeysuckle in the hedges, and the corn turning
yellow, and the rivers singing in the sunlight, and the purple on the
hill-side. It is then that the dweller in cities resolves to retire,
as soon as may be, from dust and crowds and turmoil and hurry, to some
cottage where the scent of roses comes in at the open window, and one
is wakened of a morning by the birds singing in the ivy. When the corn
is gathered into the stack-yard, and the leaves fall on the road, and
the air has a touch of frost, and the evenings draw in, then the
townsman begins to shiver and bethink him of his home. He leaves the
fading glory with a sense of relief, like one escaping from approaching
calamity, and as often as his thoughts turn thither, he pities us in
our winter solitude. "What a day this will be in Drumtochty," he says,
coming in from the slushy streets, and rubbing his hands before the
fire.

This good man is thankful to Providence for very slight mercies, since
he knows only one out of the four seasons that make our glorious year.
He had been wise to visit us in the summer-time, when the light hardly
dies out of the Glen, and the grass and young corn presents six shades
of green, and the scent of the hay is everywhere, and all young
creatures are finding themselves with joy. Perhaps he had done better
to have come north in our spring-time, when nature, throwing off the
yoke of winter, bursts suddenly into an altogether indescribable
greenery, and the primroses are blooming in Tochty woods, and every
cottage garden is sweet with wallflowers, and the birds sing of love in
every wood, and the sower goes forth to sow. And though this will
appear quite incredible, it had done this comfortable citizen much good
to have made his will, and risked his life with us in the big snowstorm
that used to shut us up for fourteen days every February. One might
well endure many hardships to stand on the side of Ben Urtach, and see
the land one glittering expanse of white on to the great strath on the
left, and the hills above Dunleith on the right, to tramp all day
through the dry, crisp snow, and gathering round the wood fire of an
evening, tell pleasant tales of ancient days, while the wind powdered
the glass with drift, and roared in the chimney. Then a man thanked
God that he was not confined to a place where the pure snow was trodden
into mire, and the thick fog made it dark at mid-day.

This very season of autumn, which frightened the townsfolk, and sent
them home in silence, used to fill our hearts with peace, for it was to
us the crown and triumph of the year. We were not dismayed by the
leaves that fell with rustling sound in Tochty woods, nor by the bare
stubble fields from which the last straw had been raked by thrifty
hands, nor by the touch of cold in the northwest wind blowing over Ben
Urtach, nor by the greyness of the running water. The long toil of the
year had not been in vain, and the harvest had been safely gathered.
The clump of sturdy little stacks, carefully thatched and roped, that
stood beside each homestead, were the visible fruit of the long year's
labour, and the assurance of plenty against winter. Let it snow for a
week on end, and let the blast from the mouth of Glen Urtach pile up
the white drift high against the outer row of stacks, the horses will
be put in the mill-shed, and an inner stack will be forked into the
threshing loft, and all day long the mill will go with dull, rumbling
sound that can be heard from the road, while within the grain pours
into the corn-room, and the clean yellow straw is piled in the barn.
Hillocks was not a man given to sentiment, yet even he would wander
among the stacks on an October evening, and come into the firelight
full of moral reflections. A vague sense of rest and thankfulness
pervaded the Glen, as if one had come home from a long journey in
safety, bringing his possessions with him.

The spirit of October was on the Doctor as he waited for his guests in
the drawing-room of the manse. The Doctor had a special affection for
the room, and would often sit alone in it for hours in the gloaming.
Once Rebecca came in suddenly, and though the light was dim and the
Doctor was seated in the shadow by the piano, she was certain that he
had been weeping. He would not allow any change to be made in the
room, even the shifting of a table, and he was very particular about
its good keeping. Twice a year Rebecca polished the old-fashioned
rosewood furniture, and so often a man came from Muirtown to tune the
piano, which none in the district could play, and which the Doctor kept
locked. Two little pencil sketches, signed with a childish hand, Daisy
Davidson, the minister always dusted himself, as also a covered picture
on the wall, and the half-yearly cleaning of the drawing-room was
concluded when he arranged on the backs of two chairs one piece of
needlework showing red and white roses, and another whereon was wrought
a posy of primroses. The room had a large bay window opening on the
lawn, and the Doctor had a trick of going out and in that way, so that
he often had ten minutes in its quietness; but no visitor was taken
there, except once a year, when the wife of the Doctor's old friend,
Lord Kilspindie, drove up to lunch, and the old man escorted her
ladyship round the garden and brought her in by the window. On that
occasion, but only then, the curtain was lifted from the picture, and
for a brief space they stood in silence. Then he let the silken veil
fall and gently arranged its folds, and offering her his arm with a
very courtly bow, led the Countess into the dining-room, where Rebecca
had done her best, and John waited in fullest Sabbath array.

[Illustration: The old man escorted her ladyship.]

The Doctor wandered about the room--looking out on the garden,
mysterious in the fading light, changing the position of a chair,
smoothing the old-fashioned needlework with caressing touch, breaking
up a log in the grate. He fell at last into a revery before the
fire--which picked out each bit of silver on his dress and shone back
from the black velvet--and heard nothing, till John flung open the door
and announced with immense majesty, "General Carnegie and Miss
Carnegie."

"Welcome, Kate, to the house of your father's friend, and welcome for
your own sake, and many returns of this day. May I say how that white
silk and those rubies become you? It is very kind to put on such
beautiful things for my poor little dinner. As for you, Jack, you are
glorious," and the Doctor must go over Carnegie's medals till that
worthy and very modest man lost all patience.

"No more of this nonsense; but, Sandie, that is a desperately becoming
get-up of yours; does n't he suit it well, Kit? I never saw a better
calf on any man."

"You are both 'rael bonnie,' and ought to be very grateful to me for
insisting on full dress. I 'm sorry that there is only one girl to
admire two such handsome men; it's a poor audience, but at any rate it
is very appreciative and grateful," and Kate courtsied to each in turn,
for all that evening she was in great good-humour.

"By the way, there will be one more to laugh at us, for I 've asked the
Free Kirk minister to make a fourth for our table. He is a nice young
fellow, with more humanity than most of his kind; but did not I hear
that he called at the Lodge to pay his respects?"

"Certainly he did," said the General, "and I rather took a fancy to
him. He has an honest eye and is not at all bad-looking, and tells a
capital story. But Kit fell upon him about something, and I had to
cover him. It's a wonder that he ever came near the place again."

"He has been at the Lodge eight times since then," explained Kate, with
much composure; "but he will on no account be left alone with the head
of the household. The General insulted him on politics, and I had to
interfere; so he looks on me as a kind of protector, and I walk him out
to the Beeches lest he be massacred."

"Take care, my dear Catherine," for the Doctor was a shrewd old
gentleman; "protecting comes perilously near loving, and Carmichael's
brown eyes are dangerous."

"They are dark blue." Kate was off her guard, and had no sooner spoken
than she blushed, whereat the Doctor laughed wickedly.

"You need not be afraid for Kate," said the General, cheerfully; "no
man can conquer her; and as for the poor young padres, she made their
lives miserable."

"They were so absurd," said Kate, "so innocent, so ignorant, so
authoritative, that it was for their good to be reduced to a proper
level. But I rather think your guest has forgotten his engagement. He
will be so busy with his book that even a manse dinner will have no
attraction." The Doctor looked again at Kate, but now she wore an air
of great simplicity.

It was surely not Carmichael's blame that he was late for Dr.
Davidson's dinner, since he had thought of nothing else since he rose,
which was at the unearthly hour of six. He went out for a walk, which
consisted of one mile east and another west from the village, and, with
pauses, during which he rested on gates and looked from him, lasted two
hours. On his return he explained to Sarah that his health had
received much benefit, and that she was not to be surprised if he went
out every morning at or before daybreak. He also mentioned casually
that he was to dine at the manse that day, and Sarah, who had been
alarmed lest this unexpected virtue might mean illness, was at rest.
His habit was to linger over breakfast, propping a book against the
sugar basin, and taking it and his rasher slice about, which was, he
insisted, the peculiar joy of a bachelor's breakfast; but this morning
Sarah found him at ten o'clock still at table, gazing intently at an
untouched cutlet, and without any book. He swallowed two mouthfuls
hurriedly and hastened to the study, leaving her to understand that he
had been immersed in a theological problem. It seemed only reasonable
that a man should have one pipe before settling down to a forenoon of
hard study, but there is no doubt that the wreaths of smoke, as they
float upwards, take fantastic shapes, and lend themselves to visions.
Twelve o'clock--it was outrageous--six hours gone without a stroke of
work. Sarah is informed that, as he has a piece of very stiff work to
do, luncheon must be an hour later, and that the terrier had better go
out for a walk. Then Carmichael cleared his table and set himself down
to a new German critic, who was doing marvellous things with the
Prophet Isaiah. In three thick volumes--paper bound and hideous to
behold--and in a style of elaborate repulsiveness, Schlochenboshen
showed that the book had been written by a syndicate, on the principle
that each member contributed one verse in turn, without reference to
his neighbours. It was, in fact, the simple plan of a children's game,
in which you write a noun and I an adjective, and the result greatly
pleases the company; and the theory of the eminent German was
understood to throw a flood of light on Scripture. Schlochenboshen had
already discovered eleven alternating authors, and as No. 4 would
occasionally, through pure perversity and just contrary to rules, pool
his contribution with No. 6, several other interesting variations were
introduced. In such circumstances one must fix the list of authors in
his head, and this can be conveniently done by letters of the alphabet.
Carmichael made a beginning with four, KATE, and then he laid down his
pen and went out for a turn in the garden. When he came in with a
resolute mind, he made a precis of the Professor's introduction, and it
began, "Dear Miss Carnegie," after which he went to lunch and ate three
biscuits. As for some reason his mind could not face even the most
fascinating German, Carmichael fell back on the twelve hundredth book
on Mary Queen of Scots, which had just come from the library, and which
was to finally vindicate that very beautiful, very clever, and very
perplexing young woman. An hour later Carmichael was on the moor, full
of an unquenchable pity for Chatelard, who had loved the sun and
perished in his rays. The cold wind on the hill braced his soul, and
he returned in a heroic mood. He only was the soldier of the Cross,
who denied himself to earthly love and hid a broken heart. And now he
read A Kempis and the _Christian Year_. Several passages in the latter
he marked in pencil with a cross, and when his wife asked him the
reason only last week, he smiled, but would give no answer. Having
registered anew his vow of celibacy, he spent an hour in dressing, an
operation, he boasted, which could be performed in six minutes, and
which, on this occasion, his housekeeper determined to review.

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