cond book of which, with its frank exposure of the English factory system, was simply enthralling: I read some of Tacitus, too, and Xenophon with a crib and learned a page of Greek every day by heart, and whenever I felt tired of work, I laid siege to Kate. That is, I continued my plan of campaign: one day I called her brother into my room and told him true stories of buffalo hunting and of fighting with Indians; another day I talked theology with the father or drew the dear mother out to tell of her girlish days in Cornwall: "I never thought I'd come down to work like this in my old age; but then children take all and give little; I was no better as a girl; I remember"—and I got a scene of her brief courtship!
I had won the whole household long before I said a word to Kate beyond the merest courtesies. A week or so passed like this till one day I held them all after dinner while I told the story of our raid into Mexico. I took care, of course, that Kate was out of the room. Towards the end of my tale, Kate came in: at once I hastened to the end abruptly and after excusing myself, went into the garden.
Half an hour later I saw she was in my room tidying up; I took thought and then went up the outside steps. As soon as I saw her, I pretended surprise: "I beg your pardon", I said, "I'll just get a book and go at once; please don't let me disturb you!" and I pretended to look for the book.
She turned sharply and looked at me fixedly: "Why do you treat me like this?" she burst out, shaking with indignation.
"Like what?" I repeated, pretending surprise. You know quite well", she went on angrily, hastily: at first I thought it was chance, unintentional; now I know you mean it. Whenever you're talking or telling a story, as soon as I come into the room you