"Three, and a black boy, Aunt."

"And how many maids?"

"I must count. Lucette and Perkins, and the cook-maid, and the kitchen
girl, four; and two chambermaids, six, and a seamstress, seven."

"What, have you a mantua-maker all to yourselves?"

"Oh, she does not make gowns; she only does plain sewing."

"And two cook-maids, and two chambermaids, and two beside! Why,
whatever in all the world can they find to do?"

"Lucette is Grandmamma's woman, and Perkins is my Aunt Dorothea's," said
I.

"But what have they got to do? That's what I want to know," said my
Aunt Kezia.

"Well, Lucette gets up Grandmamma's laces and fine things," said I, "and
quills the nett for her ruffles, and dresses her hair, and alters her
gowns--"

"What's that for?" said my Aunt Kezia.

"When a gown has been worn two or three times," said Hatty, "they turn
it upside down, Aunt, and put some fresh trimming on it, so that it
looks like a new one."

"But what for?" repeated my Aunt Kezia.

"Why, then, you see, people don't remember that you had it on last
week."

"I'll be bound I should!"

"We have very short memories in London," said Hatty, laughing.

"Seems so! But why should not folks remember? I am fairly dumfoozled
with it all. How any mortal woman can get along with four men and seven
maids to look after, passes me. I find Maria and Bessy and Sam enough,
I can tell you: too many sometimes. Mrs Desborough must be up early
and down late; or does Mrs Charles see to things?"

I began to laugh. The idea of Grandmamma "seeing to" anything, except
fancy work and whist, was so extreme diverting.

"Why, Aunt Kezia, nobody ever sees to anything here," said Hatty.

"And do things get done?" asked my Aunt Kezia with uplifted eyebrows.

"Sometimes," said Hatty, again laughing. "They don't do much dusting, I
fancy. I could write my name on the dust on the tables, now and then,
and generally on the windows."

My Aunt Kezia glanced at the window, and set her lips grimly.

"If I were mistress in this house for a week," said she, "I reckon those
four men and seven maids would scarce send up a round robin begging me
to stop another!"

"Lucette does her work thoroughly," said I, "and so does Cicely, the
under chambermaid; and Caesar, the black boy, is an honest lad. I am
afraid I cannot say much for the rest. But really, Aunt, it seemed to
me when I came that people hadn't a notion what work was in the South."

"I guess it