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Updated: May 15, 2025
There had been no common skirmish on this occasion, but a pitched battle. Madame had made a sort of pet of Anne Wixted, an underchambermaid, and attached her to her interest economically by persuading me to make her presents of some old dresses and other things. Anne was such an angel! But Mrs.
Even Anne Wixted, who had enjoyed her barren favour while the gouvernante was here, hinted privately that she had bartered a missing piece of lace belonging to me with a gipsy pedlar, for French gloves and an Irish poplin. 'And so surely as I find it is yours, I'll set the police in pursuit. 'But you must not bring me into court, said I, half amused and half alarmed.
And who did she live with? Where was her last family? Not one of us knows nothing about her, no more than a child; except, of course, the Master I do suppose he made enquiry. She's always at hugger-mugger with Anne Wixted. I'll pack that one about her business, if she doesn't mind. Tattling and whispering eternally. It's not about her own business she's a-talking.
'Because Anne Wixted she says there is ghost. How dark is this place! and so many of the Ruthyn family they are buried here is not so? How high and thick are the trees all round! and nobody comes near. And Madame rolled her eyes awfully, as if she expected to see something unearthly, and, indeed, looked very like it herself.
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