I was to be under Mrs. Blake, who had been housekeeper there since
the old mistress died. No one knew where she came from, or what had
become of Mr. Blake, if ever there had been one. For my part I never
thought she was a widow, and always expected some day to see Mr.
Blake walk in and ask for his wife. But as a widow she came, and as
a widow she passed.

She had just that kind of handsome, black, scowling looks that
always seem to need a lot of black jet and crape to set them
off--the kind of complexion that seems to be playing up for the
widow's weeds from the very cradle. I have heard it said she was
handsome, and so she may have been; and she took a deal of care of
her face, always wearing a veil when there was a wind, and her hands
to have gloves, if you please, for every bit of dirty work.

But she was a capable woman, and she soon put me in the way of my
work; and me and Betty, who was a little girl of fourteen from
Alfreston, had most of the housework to do, for Mrs. Blake would let
none of us do a hand's-turn for the old master. It was she must do
everything, and as he got more and more took up with his books there
come to be more and more waiting on him in his own room; and after a
bit Mrs. Blake used even to sit and write for him by the hour
together.

I have heard tell old Mr. Alderton wasn't brought up to be a farmer,
but was a scholar when he was young, and had to go into farming when
he married Hakes's daughter as brought the farm with her; and now he
had gone back to his books he was more than ever took up with the
idea of finding something out--making something new that no one had