the general servant, doing battle with a smoky kitchen-fire.

"How long before breakfast is ready?" asked Mavis.

"Is that you, miss? Oi can't see you properly," said Amelia, as she
turned her head. "This 'ere smoke had got into my best oye."

Amelia spoke truly; there was a great difference between the seeing
capacity of her two eyes, one of these being what is known as "walled."
Amelia was an orphan; she had been dragged up by the "Metropolitan
Association for Befriending Young Servants," known to its familiars as
the "Mabys," such designation being formed by the first letter of each
word of the title. Every week, dozens of these young women issued from
the doors of the many branches of this institution, who became, to
their respective mistresses, a source of endless complaint; in times of
domestic stress, one or two of these "generals" had been known to keep
their situations for three months. Amelia was a prodigy of success, a
record in the annals of the society, inasmuch as she had been at
Brandenburg College for two years and a half. She kept her situation
because she was cheap; also, because she did her best to give
satisfaction, as she appreciated the intellectual atmosphere of the
place, which made her hope that she, too, might pick up a few
educational crumbs; moreover, she was able to boast to her intimates,
on the occasions when she visited her parent home, how her two
mistresses could speak four languages, which was certainly true.

"Wasn't it all beautiful, miss?" asked Amelia, who had listened to
yesterday's entertainment halfway down the stairs leading to the
basement.

"Wonderful," replied Mavis, as she tied on a kitchen apron, a
preliminary to giving Amelia a helping hand with the breakfast.

"And the 'reverend'! He did make me laugh when he gave four prizes to
fat Miss Robson, and said she was a good all round girl."

This joke had not been intentional on Mr Smiley's part; he had been
puzzled by the roar of laughter which had greeted his remark; when he
divined its purport, he was quite willing to take credit for having
deliberately made the sally.

"You managed to hear that?" asked Mavis.

"Yes, miss; an' what the 'reverend' said about dear Mr Fuskin. I 'eard
that too."

"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee.

Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss
Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said:

"Call him what you like, Amelia. It's onl