risen early, and could
now be heard giving directions to some one in the library to her right--a
carpenter apparently, since there was hammering going on. She supposed
she must find out something about the kitchen and the servants. Anastasia
had brought up her breakfast that morning, with a flushed face, muttering
complaint against the woman downstairs. A terror struck through her. If
Anastasia should desert her--should give notice!

Timidly she pushed open the door of the big kitchen, and prepared to
play the mistress. Mrs. Dixon was standing at the kitchen table with a
pastry-board before her, making a meat pie. She greeted her new mistress
civilly, though guardedly, and went on with what she was doing.

"Are you going to cook for us?" asked Mrs. Melrose, helplessly.

"That's what I unnerstood fro' Muster Tyson, ma'am."

"Then I came to speak to you about dinner."

"Thank you, ma'am, but Muster Melrose gave me the orders a good while
sen. There was a cart goin' into Pengarth."

Pengarth was the nearest country town, some eight miles away.

Mrs. Melrose coloured.

"I must tell you what the baby requires," she said, drawing herself up.

Mrs. Dixon looked at the speaker impassively, over her spectacles.

Mrs. Melrose hurriedly named a patent food--some special
biscuits--bananas.

"Yo' can have the milk yo' want fro' t' farm," said Mrs. Dixon slowly, in
reply; "but there's nowt of aw them things i' t' house as I knows on."

"Then we must send for them."

Mrs. Dixon shook her head.

"There won't be anoother cart goin' in till t' day after to-morrow."

"I can't have the baby neglected!" exclaimed Mrs. Melrose, with sudden
shrillness, looking angrily at the rugged face and figure before her.

"Mebbe yo'd go an talk to t' master?" suggested Mrs. Dixon, not without,
as it seemed to Netta, a touch of slyness in eyes and voice. Of course
they all knew by now that she was a cipher--that she was not to count.
Edmund had been giving all the orders--in his miserly cheese-paring way.
No comforts!--no conveniences!--not even bare necessaries, for herself
and the child. Yet she knew very well that her husband was a rich
man.

She turned and went in search of him, making her way with difficulty
through the piles of boxes. What could be in them all? Edmund must have
been buying for years. Every now and then as she stooped to look at the
labels pasted upon them, she caught names well known to her. Orbatelli,
Via dei Ba