excellent Mrs. Hubbard from the scene of her earthly activities. Poor
Miss Pringle! She did not realize that after thirty years of a life
passed as a hired companion that she no longer possessed either
sensibility or the power of affection. To her, one employer would be
very like another so long as they were fairly considerate and not too
unreasonable. It would be tiresome, to be sure, to have to learn the
little likes and dislikes of Mrs. Hubbard's successor. But what would
you? Life was filled with tiresome moments. Poor Miss Pringle!

Her next remark was partly to make conversation and partly because she
might obtain further light upon this perplexing subject. She made a
mental note that she must not forget to speak to Mrs. Hubbard of Nora's
grief over Miss Wickham's death. Naturally, she would be gratified.

"Well, it must be a great relief to you now it's all over," she said.

"Sometimes I can't realize it," said Nora simply. "These last few weeks
I hardly got to bed at all, and when the end came I was utterly
exhausted. For two days I have done nothing but sleep. Poor Miss
Wickham. She did hate dying."

Miss Pringle had a sort of triumph. She had proved her point. Even Mrs.
Hubbard could not doubt it now! "That's the extraordinary part of it. I
believe you were really fond of her."

"Do you know that for nearly a year she would eat nothing but what I
gave her with my own hands. And she liked me as much as she was capable
of liking anybody."

"That wasn't much," Miss Pringle permitted herself.