k it ill
becomes you to ridicule or censure me. Dear knows! I have not sought
my own ease or comfort in the matter."

"My dear, good wife," I quickly said, in a soothing voice, "I have
neither meant to ridicule nor censure you--nothing was farther from
my thoughts."

"You shall certainly have no cause to complain of me on this score
again," she said, still a little warmly. "When next we clean house,
I will take care that it shall be done by extra help altogether."

"Do, so by all means, Mrs. Sunderland. Let there be, if possible,
two paint-cleaners and scrubbers in every room, that the work may
all be done in a day instead of a week. Take my word for it, the
cost will be less; or, if double, I will cheerfully pay it for the
sake of seeing 'order from chaos rise' more quickly than is wont
under the ordinary system of doing things."

My wife did not just like this speech, I could see, but she bit her
lips and kept silent.

In a week we were without a cook again; and months passed before we
were in any thing like domestic comfort. At last my wife was
fortunate enough to get Ann and Hannah back again, and then the old
pleasant order of things was restored. I rather think that we shall
have a different state of things at next house-cleaning time. I
certainly hope so.

CHAPTER XVII.

BROILING A LOBSTER.

MR. SMITH'S appetite sometimes takes an epicurean turn, and then we
indulge in a lobster, calf's-head soup, terrapins, or something of
that sort.

Once upon a time, he sent home a lobster. I did not feel very well
that day, and concluded to leave the cooking of the animal to a new
girl that I had taken a week or two before, on a strong
recommendation. She claimed to be a finished cook, and her
testimonials were distinct on that head.

"Kitty," said I, "Mr. Smith has sent home a lobster, I believe?"

I had summoned the girl to my room.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. "Is it for dinner?"

"Of course it is; and you must see that it is well cooked."

Kitty lingered a few moments, as if not entirely satisfied about
something, and then retired to the kitchen.

"I wonder if she knows how to boil a lobster?" said I to myself.

But then, the remembrance that she had come to me as a finished
cook, crossed my mind, and I answered, mentally, my own question, by
saying:

"Of course she does."

Not long afterwards, I went to the dining-room, which was over the
kitchen. I had been there only a little while, whe