Having married on a narrower income, Mrs. Norris had fancied a very strict line of economy necessary. And with no children to provide for, she had nothing to impede her frugality. Under this principle, with no real affection for her sister, she could only take credit for arranging so expensive a charity. Though, perhaps, after this conversation, she might walk home to the Parsonage (in the delightful moonlight that simply begged for a full-throated howl) in the happy belief of being the most liberal-minded sister and aunt in the world.

When the subject was brought forward again, her views were more fully explained. In reply to Lady Bertram’s calm inquiry of “Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?” Sir Thomas heard with some surprise that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris’s power to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been considering her as a particularly welcome addition at the Parsonage, as a desirable companion to an aunt who had no children of her own; but he found himself wholly mistaken. Mrs. Norris was sorry to say that the little girl’s staying with them was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris’s indifferent state of health made it an impossibility: he (and his gout) could no more bear the noise of a child than he could fly; poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time.

“Then she had better come to us,” said Lady Bertram, with the utmost composure, scraping away with patience and futility—and a poultice of apricot jam—some caked-on sand from a clay tablet once belonging to a servant of Ramses III.

After a short pause Sir Thomas added with dignity, “Yes, let her home be in this house. We will do our duty by her. She will have companions of her own age, her own artifacts, and a regular instructress.”

“Very true,” cried Mrs. Norris, “which are all very important considerations. It will be just the same to Miss Lee whether she has three girls to teach, or only two. I only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. I am not one of those that spare their own trouble; and Nanny shall fetch her, however it may put me to inconvenience to have my chief counsellor away for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the little white attic, near the old nurseries. It will be the best place for her, so near Miss Lee, not far from the girls, and close by the housemaids, who could help to dress her, and take care of her clothes. For I suppose you would not think it fair to expect Ellis to wait on her as well as the others. Indeed, I do not see that you could possibly place her anywhere else.”