"I declare," said my aunt, "I haven't a bit of peace of my life with the
dirt and dust. The water-cart never comes round here as it does in the
other roads, and the house gets filthy. Moil and toil, moil and toil,
from morning to night, and no thanks whatever."
When my aunt talked like this she used to screw up her face and seem as
if she were going to cry, and she spoke in a whining, unpleasant tone of
voice; but I never remember seeing her cry, and I used to wonder why she
would trouble herself about dusting with a cloth and feather brush from
morning to night, when there were three servants to do all the work.
I have heard the cook tell Jane the housemaid that Mrs Pilgarlic was
never satisfied; but it was some time before I knew whom she meant; and
to this day I don't know why she gave my aunt such a name.
Whenever aunt used to be more than usually fretful, as time went on my
uncle would get up softly, give me a peculiar look, and go out into the
garden, where, if I could, I followed, and we used to talk, and weed,
and train the flowers; but very often my aunt would pounce upon me and
order me to sit still and keep out of mischief if I could.
I was very glad when my uncle decided to send me to school, and I used
to go to one in our neighbourhood, so that I was a good deal away from
home, as uncle said I was to call his house now; and school and the
garden were the places where I was happiest in those days.
"Yes, my boy," said my uncle, "I should like you to call this home, for
though your aunt pretends she doesn't like it, she does, you know, Nat;
and you mustn't mind her being a bit cross, Nat. It isn't temper, you
know, it's weakness. It's her digestion's bad, and she's a sufferer,
that's what she is. She's wonderfully fond of you, Nat."