e insult that had been passed on his crops.

"That's brazen impidence," said Phoebe, "and jes' like her. But look
here, Mike, don't you quarrel with the cook. No matter what happens,
don't you quarrel with the cook."

"I ain't goin' to quarrel with nobody," said Mike; "but if that Molly
'spects me to grease her wagon wheels for her, she's got hold of the
wrong man. If she likes green wood for the kitchen fire, and fotchin' it
mos' times for herself, that's her business, not mine."

"If you do that, Mike, she'll leave," said Phoebe.

Mike gave himself a general shrug.

"She can't leave," said he, "till Miss Panney tells her she kin."

Phoebe laughed and rose.

"Reckon I'll go in and see Miss Miriam," she said, "and while I'm doin'
that you'd better ask the boss about the money."

Having delivered the letter, and having, with much suavity, inquired into
the health and general condition of the Cobhurst family since she had
walked off and left it to its own resources, and having given Miriam
various points of information in regard to the Bannister and the
Tolbridge families, Phoebe gracefully took leave of the young mistress of
the house and proceeded to call upon the cook.

"Hi, Phoebe!" cried Molly, who was engaged in washing dishes, "how did
you git here at this time o' night?"

"I'd have you know," said the visitor, with lofty dignity, "that my name
is Mrs. Robinson, and if you want to know how I got here, I came in a
kerridge."

"I didn't hear no kirridge drive up," said Molly.

"Humph!" said Mrs. Robinson, "I reckon I know which gate is proper for my
kerridge to come in, and which gate is proper for the Bannister coachman
to drive in. I suppose there is cooks that would drive up to the front
door if the governor's kerridge was standin' there."

Molly looked at the colored woman, with a grin.

"You're on your high hoss, Mrs. Robinson," said she. "That's what comes
o' boardin' the minister. That's lofty business, Mrs. Robinson, an' I
expect you're afther gittin' rich. Is it the gilt-edged butter you give
him for his ash-cakes?"

"A pusson that's pious," said Phoebe, "don't want to get rich onter a
minister of the gospel--"

"Which would be wearin' on their hopes if they did," interrupted Molly.

"But I can tell you this," continued Phoebe, more sharply, "that it isn't
as if I was a Catholic and boardin' a priest, and had to go on Wednesdays
and confess back to him all the money he paid me on Tuesdays