their daughter now.

The neighbours in the village loved, and were sorry for, their lady,
and used to send her little presents; there was a large garden in
which Diggory Stokes, who had also served her father, raised
vegetables for her use; the cow wandered in the deserted park, and so
they contrived to find food; while all the work of the house was done
by Rose and Deborah. Rose was her mother's great comfort, nursing
her, cheering her, taking care of the little ones, teaching them,
working for them, and making light of all her exertions. Everyone in
the village loved Rose Woodley, for everyone had in some way been
helped or cheered by her. Her mother was only sometimes afraid she
worked too hard, and would try her strength too much; but she was
always bright and cheerful, and when the day's work was done no one
was more gay and lively and ready for play with the little ones.

Rose had more trial than anyone knew with Deborah. Deborah was as
faithful as possible, and bore a great deal for the sake of her
mistress, worked hard day and night, had little to eat and no wages,
yet lived on with them rather than forsake her dear lady and the
children. One thing, however, Deborah would not do, and that was to
learn to rule her tongue and her temper. She did not know, nor do
many excellent servants, how much trial and discomfort she gave to
those she loved so earnestly, by her constant bursting out into hasty
words whenever she was vexed--her grumbling about whatever she
disliked, and her ill-judged scolding of the children. Servants in
those days were allowed to speak more freely to their masters and
mistresses than at present, so that Deborah had more opportunity of
making such speeches, and it was Rose's continual work to try to keep
her temper from being fretted, or Lady Woodley from being teased with