m glad enough of a drop o' summat myself when I'm
plagued. I feel very low, like, tonight; I think I shall put my beer i'
the saucepan an' warm it.'

'What a one you are for warmin' your beer, Betty! I couldn't abide
it--nasty bitter stuff!'

'It's fine talkin'; if you was a cook you'd know what belongs to bein' a
cook. It's none so nice to hev a sinkin' at your stomach, I can tell you.
You wouldn't think so much o' fine ribbins i' your cap then.'

'Well, well, Betty, don't be grumpy. Liza Thomson, as is at Phipps's,
said to me last Sunday, "I wonder you'll stay at Dempster's," she says,
"such goins-on as there is." But I says, "There's things to put up wi' in
ivery place, an' you may change, an' change, an' not better yourself when
all's said an' done." Lors! why, Liza told me herself as Mrs. Phipps was
as skinny as skinny i' the kitchen, for all they keep so much company;
and as for follyers, she's as cross as a turkey-cock if she finds 'em
out. There's nothin' o' that sort i' the missis. How pretty she come an'
spoke to Job last Sunday! There isn't a good-natur'der woman i' the
world, that's my belief--an' hansome too. I al'ys think there's nobody
looks half so well as the missis when she's got her 'air done nice. Lors!
I wish I'd got long 'air like her--my 'air's a-comin' off dreadful.'

'There'll be fine work to-morrow, I expect,' said Betty, 'when the master
comes home, an' Dawes a-swearin' as he'll niver do a stroke o' work for
him again. It'll be good fun if he sets the justice on him for cuttin'
him wi' the whip; the master'll p'raps get his comb cut for once in his
life!'

'Why, he was in a temper like a fiend this morning,' said Kitty. 'I
daresay it was along o' what had happened wi' the missis. We shall hev a
pretty house wi' him if she doesn't come back--he'll want to be
leatherin' us, I shouldn't wonder. He must hev somethin' t' ill-use when
he's in a passion.'

'I'd tek care he didn't leather me--no, not if he was my husban' ten
times o'er; I'd pour hot drippin' on him sooner. But the missis hasn't a
sperrit like me. He'll mek her come back, you'll see; he'll come round
her somehow. There's no likelihood of her coming hack to-night, though;
so I should think we might fasten the doors and go to bed when we like.'

On Sunday morning, however, Kitty's mind became disturbed by more
definite and alarming conjectures about her mistress. While Betty,
encouraged by the prospect of unwonted leisure, was sit