That lady, from Nanny's point of view, was a personage always 'drawed out i' fine clothes', the chief result of whose existence was to cause additional bed-making, carrying of hot water, laying of table-cloths, and cooking of dinners.

It was a perpetually heightening 'aggravation' to Nanny that she and her mistress had to 'slave' more than ever, because there was this fine lady in the house.
'An, she pays nothin' for't neither,' observed Nanny to Mr.Jacob Tomms, a young gentleman in the tailoring line, who occasionally--simply out of a taste for dialogue--looked into the vicarage kitchen of an evening.

'I know the master's shorter o' money than iver, an' it meks no end o' difference i' th' housekeepin'-- her bein' here, besides bein' obliged to have a charwoman constant.' 'There's fine stories i' the village about her,' said Mr.Tomms.

'They say as Muster Barton's great wi' her, or else she'd niver stop here.' 'Then they say a passill o' lies, an' you ought to be ashamed to go an' tell 'em o'er again.

Do you think as the master, as has got a wife like the missis, 'ud go running arter a stuck-up piece o' goods like that Countess, as isn't fit to black the missis's shoes?
I'm none so fond o' the master, but I know better on him nor that.' 'Well, I didn't b'lieve it,' said Mr.Tomms, humbly.
'B'lieve it?
you'd ha' been a ninny if yer did.