"but am I to 'ave my old rooms?"

"Which rooms were they?"

"These 'ere, back of the kitchen. My own settin' room and bedroom and
kitchen and pantry and my own private door outside. Your uncle was allers
a great hand for bein' private and insistin' on other folks keepin'
private, that 's wot 'e was, but God rest 'is soul, it didn't do the poor
old gent much good."

"Certainly," said Dorothy, "take your old rooms. And can you milk a cow?"

Mrs. Smithers sighed. "I ain't never 'ad it put on me, Miss," she said,
with the air of a martyr trying to make himself comfortable up against the
stake, "not as a regler thing, I ain't, but wotever I'm asked to do in the
line of duty whiles I'm dwellin' in this sufferin' and dyin' world, I aims
to do the best wot I can, w'ether it's milkin' a cow, drownin' kittens, or
buryin' a cat wot can't stay buried."

"We have breakfast about half-past seven," went on Dorothy, quickly;
"luncheon at noon and dinner at six."

"Wot at six?" demanded Mrs. Smithers, pricking up her ears.

"Dinner! Dinner at six."

"Lord preserve us," said Mrs. Smithers, half to herself. "Your uncle
allers 'ad 'is dinner at one o'clock, sharp, and 'e wouldn't like it to
'ave such scandalous goin's on in 'is own 'ouse."

"You're working for me," Dorothy reminded her sharply, "and not for my
uncle."

There was a long silence, during which Mrs. Smithers peered curiously at
her young mistress over her steel-bowed spectacles. "I'm not so sure as
you," she said. "On account of the cat 'avin come back from 'is grave, it
wouldn't surprise me none to see your uncle settin' 'ere at any time in
'is shroud, and a-askin' to 'ave mush and milk for 'is supper, the which
'e was so powerful fond of that I was more 'n 'alf minded at the last
minute to put some of it in 's coffin."

"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, severely, "I do not want to hear any more
about dead people, or resurrected cats, or anything of that nature. What's
gone is gone, and there's no use in continually referring to it."

At this significant moment, Claudius Tiberius paraded somewhat
ostentatiously through the kitchen and went outdoors.

"You see, Miss?" asked Mrs. Smithers, with ill-concealed satisfaction.
"Wot's gone ain't always gone for long, that's wot it ain't."

Dorothy retreated, followed by a sepulchral laugh which grated on her
nerves. "Upon my word, dear," she said to Harlan, "I don't know how we're
going to stand having that woman in the