"I never trouble my lady visitors with this," he said, quietly. "I am
only too well accustomed to it."
Child as I was, I felt well satisfied that my father would let no one
fill my mother's place. For so it was, and all Miss Burton's efforts
failed to put her, even for a moment, at the head of his table.
I do not quite know how or when it was that I began to realize that
such was her effort. I remember once hearing a scrap of conversation
between our most respectable and respectful butler and the
housekeeper--"behind the scenes"--as the former worthy came from the
breakfast-room.
"And how's the new missis this morning, Mr. Smith?" asked the
housekeeper, with a bitterness not softened by the prospect of
possible dethronement.
"Another try for the tea-tray, ma'am," replied Smith, "but it's no
go."
"A brazen, black-haired old maid!" cried the housekeeper. "To think of
her taking the place of that sweet angel, Mrs. Dacre (and she barely
two years in her grave), and pretending to act a mother's part by the
poor boy and all. I've no patience!"
On one excuse or another, the Burtons contrived to extend their visit;
and the prospect of a marriage between my father and Miss Burton was
now discussed too openly behind his back for me to fail to hear it.
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