ngs, Polly had
failed to give the satisfaction of former times. She was neither so
cheerful, nor so thoughtful, nor had she her usual patience with the
children. "Her disposition is altering," I said to myself, now and
then, in view of this change; "something has spoiled her."

"You have indulged her too much, I suppose," was the reason given by my
husband, whenever I ventured to introduce to his notice the
shortcomings of Polly. "You are an expert at the business of spoiling
domestics."

My good opinion of myself was generally flattered by this estimate of
the case; and, as this good opinion strengthened, a feeling of
indignation against Polly for her ingratitude, as I was pleased to call
it, found a lodging in my heart.

And so the matter had gone on, from small beginnings, until a state of
dissatisfaction on the one part, and coldness on the other, had grown
up between mistress and maid. I asked no questions of Polly, as to the
change in her manner, but made my own inferences, and took, for
granted, my own conclusions. I had spoiled her by indulgence--that was
clear. As a thing of course, this view was not very favorable to a just
and patient estimate of her conduct, whenever it failed to meet my
approval.

On the present occasion, she had neglected the performance of certain
services, in consequence of which I suffered some small inconvenience,
and a great deal of annoyance.

"I don't know what's come over you, Polly," said I to her sharply.
"Something has spoiled you outright; and I tell you now, once for all,
that you'll have to mend your ways considerably, if you expect to
remain much longer in this family."

The language was hard enough, but the manner harder and more offensive.
I had never spoken to her before with anything like the severity now
used. The result of this intemperance of speech on my part, the reader
has seen. Polly gave notice that she would leave, and I accepted the
notice. For a short time after the girl retired from my room, I
maintained a state of half indignant independence; but, as to being
satisfied with myself, that was out of the question. I had lost my
temper, and, as is usual in such cases, had been harsh, and it might
be, unjust. I was about to lose the services of a domestic, whose good
qualities so far overbalanced all defects and shortcomings, that I
could hardly hope to supply her place. How could the children give her
up? This question came home with a most unpleasant su