the sight of a sick person had a way to cheer him
and make him so bright as a bee. He'd be very interested to hear about my
husband's pangs and said it was wonderful what the human frame could
endure without going under. But a nice, thoughtful man who had seen pecks
of trouble himself and could spare a sigh for others. He'd often bring my
husband a pinch of tobacco, or an old illustrated newspaper; and he liked
to turn over the past, when his wife was alive and he'd many times been
within a touch of taking his own life.

Arthur was a handsome fellow, and might well have wed again, but no desire
in that direction overtook him, and when Dowager Lady Martin at Tudor
Manor took sick and had two nurses, his daughter Minnie, gived over her
work, which was lady's maid to the old lady, and come home to look after
her father. I'd say to Mr. Parable sometimes that, at his age and with his
personable appearance, he might try again in hope; but "No," he said.
"I've had my little lot and there's Minnie. My girl would never neighbour
with a step-mother and I don't want no more sour looks and high words in
my house."

"Girl" he called her, but in truth Minnie Parable was five-and-thirty and
far ways from being girlish in mind or body. Old for her age and one of
they flat, dreary-minded females with a voice like the wind in a winter
hedge, eyes without no more light in 'em than a rabbit's, and a moping,
down-daunted manner that made the women shrug their shoulders and the men
fly. Not a word against her, and the fact she was lady's maid for ten full
years to the Dowager can be told to prove her virtues; but then again, the
Dowager was a melancholy-minded old woman, along of family misfortunes,
and no doubt Minnie's gift for looking at the dark side suited that
ancient piece, who always did likewise.

But there it was. With her melancholy nose, thin shoulders and
sand-coloured hair, Minnie woke up no interest in the men, and there was
only one person surprised to find it so, and that was herself.

She told me once, in her poor, corncrake voice, that she'd never had an
affair in her life, though she'd saved money. "I'd always thought to have
a home of my own some day," she told me, "for it ain't as though I was one
of them women that shun the male and plan to go through life without a
partner; but they hold off, Mrs. Stocks, and the younger girls get
married."

"Plenty of time," I said--to pleasure her--though knowing only too well