look very well for the lord of the manor
to be carrying fuel to the cook."

"It isn't the lord of the manor," cried Miriam; "it is the head
hay-maker, and when you dress yourself for supper, she will never think
of you as the man who brought in the wood."

Dora, from the kitchen window, saw Ralph go out to the woodhouse, and she
saw him returning with an arm-load of small sticks. Then she turned her
back to the kitchen door, and bent her head over a beefsteak she was
preparing for the gridiron.

Ralph came in with the wood, and put it down by the side of the great
stove. As he glanced at the slight form in the pink gown, it struck him
that this woman would not be equal to the hard work which would be
sometimes necessary here.

"I suppose this wood will be as much as you will want for the present,"
he said, as he turned toward the door, "and the man will fill this box
to-night, but if you need any more before he does so, there is the
woodhouse just across the yard, where you can easily get a few sticks."

Dora half turned herself in the direction of the woodhouse, and murmured,
"Yes, sir."

"Miriam," said Ralph, as he went into the dining-room, where his sister
was putting the knives and forks upon the supper table, "do you think
that woman is strong enough to wash, iron, and do all the things that
Phoebe used to do when she was here? How old is she?"

"I don't know, exactly," answered Miriam, going to a cupboard for some
glasses; "and as to rough work, I can't tell what she can do, until
she tries."

When Ralph had made his toilet and come downstairs, attired in a very
becoming summer suit, his sister complimented him.

"Hay-making makes you ever so much handsomer," she said; "you look as if
you had been on a yachting cruise. There is one thing I forgot to say to
you, but I do not suppose it will make any difference, as we are real
country people now: our new cook is accustomed to eating at the table
with the family."

Ralph's face flushed. "Upon my word!" he exclaimed, staring at his
sister. "Well," he continued, "I don't care what she is accustomed to,
but she cannot eat at our table. I may carry wood for cooks, but I do
not eat with them."

"But, Ralph," said Miriam, "you ought to consider the circumstances. She
is not a common Irishwoman, or German. She is an American, and has always
taken her meals with the family in which she lived. I could not ask her
to eat in the kitchen. You know, Mike takes his