to leave. She did not leave. The calm serenity of the new mistress
prevailed, even over the time-honoured independence in which
the "girl" and her kind unconsciously gloried. Respect succeeded
injury, and before the bride had been in the Windom house a month,
Maria Bliss was telling the other "hired girls" of the neighbourhood
that she wouldn't trade places with them for anything in the world.

Greatly to the consternation and disgust of other householders,
a "second girl" was added to the Windom menage,--a parlour-maid
she was called. This was too much. It was rank injustice. General
housework girls began to complain of having too much work to
do,--getting up at five in the morning, cooking for half a dozen
"hands," doing all the washing and ironing, milking, sweeping and
so on, and not getting to bed till nine or ten o'clock at night,--to
say nothing of family dinners on Sunday and the preacher in every
now and then, and all that. Moreover, Mrs. Windom herself never
looked bedraggled. She took care of her hair, wore good clothes,
went to the dentist regularly (whether she had a toothache or not),
had meals served in what Maria Bliss loftily described as "courses,"
and saw to it that David Windom shaved once a day, dressed better
than his neighbours, kept his "surrey" and "side-bar buggy" washed,
his harness oiled and polished, and wore real riding-boots.

The barnyard took on an orderly appearance, the stables were
repaired, the picket fences gleamed white in the sun, the roof of
the house was painted red, the sides a shimmering white, and there
were green window shutters and green window boxes filled with
geraniums. The front yard was kept mowed, and there were great
flower-beds encircled by snow-white boulders; a hammock was swung
in the shade of two great oaks, and--worst of all! a tennis-court