understatement of her plight. The maid
left in the afternoon. Mildred, not without inconveniences that had in
the novelty their amusing side, contrived to dress that evening for
dinner and to get to bed; but when she awakened in the morning and was
ready to dress, the loss of Therese became a tragedy. It took the girl
nearly four hours to get herself together presentably--and then, never
had she looked so unkempt. With her hair, thick and soft, she could do
nothing.

"What a wonderful person Therese was!" thought she. "And I always
regarded her as rather stupid." Her mother, who had not had a maid
until she was about thirty and had never become completely dependent,
fared somewhat better, though, hearing her moans, you would have
thought she was faring worse.

Mildred's unhappiness increased from day to day, as her wardrobe fell
into confusion and disrepair. She felt that she must rise to the
situation, must teach herself, must save herself from impending
dowdiness and slovenliness. But her brain seemed to be paralyzed. She
did not know how or where to begin to learn. She often in secret gave
way to the futility of tears.

There were now only a cook and one housemaid and a man of all work--all
three newcomers, for Presbury insisted--most wisely--that none of the
servants of the luxurious, wasteful days would be useful in the new
circumstances. He was one of those small, orderly men who have a
genius for just such situations as the one he now proceeded to grapple
with and solve. In his pleasure at managing everything about that
house, in distributing the work among the three servants, in marketing,
and, in inspecting purchases and nosing into the garbage-barrel, in
looking for dust on picture-frames and table-tops and for neglected
weeds in the garden walks--in this multitude of engrossing delights he
forgot his anger over the trick that had been played upon him. He
still fought with his wife and denounced her and met insult with
insult. But that, too, was one of his pleasures. Also, he felt that
on the whole he had done well in marrying. He had been lonely as a
bachelor, had had no one to talk with, or to quarrel with, nothing to
do. The marriage was not so expensive, as his wife had brought him a
house--and it such a one as he had always regarded as the apogee of
elegance. Living was not dear in Hanging Rock, if one understood
managing and gave time to it. And socially he was at last established.