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 Aunt Willoughby. The click of swords was audible to all.

"Oh, but you wouldn't, Aunt Willoughby. Not when they've got five or six rooms to settle up every day, you wouldn't. You see, with you, when poor uncle was alive, it was a different thing altogether. What I mean to say is, in proportion to the size of the family you had more of them, in a kind of way. It was a larger staff."

"Ah then, Rosie, but what I always used to say, 'You do what I expect of you and we won't expect any more than that. I'm reasonable,' I used to say, 'I won't expect any more than that.' Annie could tell you that was what I used to say to her. As my dear husband used to say," Aunt Willoughby raised her voice, anticipating an interruption, "there are those that can get good work out of their servants and those that can't. We mustn't be set up about it, it's just a gift, like other gifts, that many haven't got. I've had such a happy, happy home," she sighed towards the attentive Miss Emily. "Always so comfortable, it was."

"Annie is a funny girl," reflected Mrs.