from her servant would occasionally
tickle her so much and so suddenly, that she
would burst out laughing in the middle of
her passion.

But the talk about Miss Galindo's choice
and management of her servants was
confined to village gossip, and had never reached
my Lady Ludlow's ears, though doubtless
Mr. Homer was well acquainted with it
What my lady knew of her amounted to this.
It was the custom in those days for the
wealthy ladies of the county to set on foot a
repository, as it was called, in the assize-town.
The ostensible manager of this repository was
generally a decayed gentlewoman, a clergyman's
widow, or so forth. She was, however
controlled by a committee of ladies; and paid
by them in proportion to the amount of goods
she sold; and these goods were the small
manufactures of ladies of little or no fortune,
whose names, if they chose it, were only
signified by initials.

Poor water-colour drawings, in indigo and
Indian ink; screens, ornamented with moss
and dried leaves; paintings on velvet, and
such faintly ornamental works were
displayed on one side of the shop. It was
always reckoned a mark of characteristic
gentility in the repository, to have only
common heavy framed sash-windows, which
admitted very little light, so I never was
quite certain of the merit of these Works of
Art, as they were entitled. But, on the other
side, where the Useful Work placard was
put up, there was a great variety of articles,
of whose unusual excellence every one might
judge. Such fine sewing, and stitching, and
button-holing! Such bundles of soft delicate
knitted stockings and socks; and, above
all, in Lady Ludlow's eyes, such hanks of the
finest spun flaxen thread!

And the most delicate dainty work of all
was done by Miss Galindo, as Lady Ludlow
very well knew. Yet, for all their fine sewing,
it sometimes happened that Miss
Galindo's patterns were of an old-fashioned
kind; and the dozen night-caps, maybe, on
the materials for which she had expended
bona fide money, and on the making-up, no
little time and eyesight, would lie for months
in a yellow neglected heap; and at such
times it was said Miss Galindo was more
amusing than usual, more full of dry drollery
and humour; just as at the times when an
order came in to X (the initial she had
chosen) for a stock of well paying things, she
sat and stormed at her servant as she stitched
away. She herself explained her practice in
this way:

"When everything goes wrong, one would
give up breathing if one could not lighten
one's heart by a joke. But when I've to sit
still from morning till night, I must have
something to stir my blood, or I should go off
in an apoplexy, so I set to, and quarrel with
Sally."

Such were Miss Galindo's means and
manner of living in her own house. Out of
doors, and in the village she was not popular,
although she would have been sorely missed
had she left the place. But she asked too
many home questions (not to say impertinent)
respecting the domestic economies, (and even
the very poor like to spend their bit of
money their own way), and would open
cupboards to find out hidden extravagancies, and
question closely respecting the weekly amount
of butter, till one day she met with what
would have been a rebuff to any other person,
but which she rather enjoyed than otherwse.

She was going into a cottage, and, in the
doorway met the good woman chasing out a
duck, and apparently unconscious of her
visitor.

"Get out, Miss Galindo!" she cried,
addressing the duck. "Get out! O, I ask
your pardon," she continued, as if seeing the
lady for the first time. "It's only that
weary duck that will come in. Get out, Miss
Gal——" (to the duck).

"And so you call it after me, do you?"
inquired her visitor.

"O, yes, ma'am, my master would have it
so, for he said, sure enough the unlucky bird
was always poking herself where she was not
wanted."

"Ha, ha! very good! And so your master
is a wit, is he? Well! tell him to come up
and speak to me to-night about my parlour
chimney, for there is no one like him for
chimney doctoring."

And the master went up, and was so won
over by Miss Galindo's merry ways, and
sharp insight into the mysteries of his various
kinds of business (he was a mason, chimney
sweeper, and rat-catcher), that he came
home and abused his wife the next time
she called the duck the name by which he
himself had christened her.

But odd as Miss Galindo was in general,
she could be as well-bred a lady as any one
when she chose. And choose she always
did, when my Lady Ludlow was by. Indeed
I don't know the man, woman, or child,
that did not instinctively turn out its best
side to her ladyship. So she had no notion
of the qualities which I am sure made Mr.
Horner think that Miss Galindo would be
most unmanageable as a clerk, and heartily
wish that the idea had never come into my
lady's head. But there it was; and he had
annoyed her ladyship already more than he
liked to-day, so he could not directly
contradict her, but only urge difficulties which
he hoped might prove insuperable. But
every one of them Lady Ludlow knocked
down. Letters to copy? Doubtless. Miss
Galindo could come up to the hall; she
should have a room to herself, she wrote
a beautiful hand; and writing would save
her eyesight. "Capability with regard
to accounts?" My lady would answer for
that, too; and for more than Mr. Horner