ating heart, and
the other holding her handkerchief to her eyes.

"What are you crying about?" Benjulia inquired; "I haven't scolded you,
have I?" The cook began an apology; the doctor pointed to a chair. "Sit
down, and recover yourself." The cook sat down, faintly smiling through
her tears. This otherwise incomprehensible reception of a person who had
kept the dinner waiting twenty minutes, and who had not done the mutton
properly even then (taken in connection with the master's complimentary
inquiries, reported downstairs by the footman), could bear but one
interpretation. It wasn't every woman who had her beautiful hair, and
her rosy complexion. Why had she not thought of going upstairs first,
just to see whether she looked her best in the glass? Would he begin by
making a confession? or would he begin by kissing her?

He began by lighting his pipe. For a while he smoked placidly with his
eye on the cook. "I hear you have been reading a story," he resumed.
"What is the name of it?"

"'Pamela; or Virtue Rewarded,' sir."

Benjulia went on with his smoking. The cook, thus far demure and
downcast, lifted her eyes experimentally. He was still looking at her.
Did he want encouragement? The cook cautiously offered a little literary
information,

"The author's name is on the book, sir. Name of Richardson."

The information was graciously received, "Yes; I've heard of the name,
and heard of the book. Is it interesting?"

"Oh, sir, it's a beautiful story! My only excuse for being late with the
dinner--"

"Who's Pamela?"

"A young person in service, sir. I'm sure I wish I was more like her! I
felt quite broken-hearted when you sent the mutton down again; and you
so kind as to overlook the error in the roasting--"

Benjulia stopped the apology once more. He pursued his own ends with a
penitent cook, just as he pursued his own ends with a vivisected animal.
Nothing moved him out of his appointed course, in the one or in the
other. He returned to Pamela.

"And what becomes of her at the end of the story?" he asked.

The cook simpered. "It's Pamela who is the virtuous young person, sir.
And so the story comes true--Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded."

"Who rewards her?"

Was there ever anything so lucky as this? Pamela's situation was fast
becoming the cook's situation. The bosom of the vigourous little woman
began to show signs of tender agitation--distributed over a large
surface. She rolled her eyes amorously. Benjuli