couldn't do wrong, I suppose--could we?--if we got her a little
dog, and a lot of new gowns."

There was, evidently, no more help in the way of advice to be
expected from Owen than from Morgan himself. As I came to that
conclusion, I saw through the window our old housekeeper on her
way, with her basket, to the kitchen-garden, and left the room to
ascertain if she could assist us.

To my great dismay, the housekeeper took even a more gloomy view
than Morgan of the approaching event. When I had explained all
the circumstances to her, she carefully put down her basket,
crossed her arms, and said to me in slow, deliberate, mysterious
tones:

"You want my advice about what's to be done with this young
woman? Well, sir, here's my advice: Don't you trouble your head
about her. It won't be no use. Mind, I tell you, it won't be no
use."

"What do you mean?"

"You look at this place, sir--it's more like a prison than a
house, isn't it? You, look at us as lives in it. We've got
(saving your presence) a foot apiece in our graves, haven't we?
When you was young yourself, sir, what would you have done if
they had shut you up for six weeks in such a place as this, among
your grandfathers and grandmothers, with their feet in the
grave?"