hat at that time a very slight
spark might any day cause the long-smouldering anger to flame forth in
open indignation.

That spark happened to fall the very morning that Mrs. Hackit paid the
visit to Mrs. Patten, recorded in the last chapter. Nanny's dislike of
the Countess extended to the innocent dog Jet, whom she 'couldn't a-bear
to see made a fuss wi' like a Christian. An' the little ouzle must be
washed, too, ivery Saturday, as if there wasn't children enoo to wash,
wi'out washin' dogs.'

Now this particular morning it happened that Milly was quite too poorly
to get up, and Mr. Barton observed to Nanny, on going out, that he would
call and tell Mr. Brand to come. These circumstances were already enough
to make Nanny anxious and susceptible. But the Countess, comfortably
ignorant of them, came down as usual about eleven o'clock to her separate
breakfast, which stood ready for her at that hour in the parlour; the
kettle singing on the hob that she might make her own tea. There was a
little jug of cream, taken according to custom from last night's milk,
and specially saved for the Countess's breakfast. Jet always awaited his
mistress at her bedroom door, and it was her habit to carry him down
stairs.

'Now, my little Jet,' she said, putting him down gently on the
hearth-rug, 'you shall have a nice, nice breakfast.'

Jet indicated that he thought that observation extremely pertinent and
well-timed, by immediately raising himself on his hind-legs, and the
Countess emptied the cream-jug into the saucer. Now there was usually a
small jug of milk standing on the tray by the side of the cream, and
destined for Jet's breakfast, but this morning Nanny, being 'moithered',
had forgotten that part of the arrangements, so that when the Countess
had made her tea, she perceived there was no second jug, and rang the
bell. Nanny appeared, looking very red and heated--the fact was, she had
been 'doing up' the kitchen fire, and that is a sort of work which by no
means conduces to blandness of temper. 'Nanny, you have forgotten Jet's
milk; will you bring me some more cream, please?'

This was just a little too much for Nanny's forbearance. 'Yes, I dare
say. Here am I wi' my hands full o' the children an' the dinner, and
missis ill a-bed, and Mr. Brand a-comin'; and I must run o'er the village
to get more cream, 'cause you've give it to that nasty little
blackamoor.'

'Is Mrs. Barton ill?'

'Ill--yes--I should think she is ill,