u saw Mrs. Nicolson's kitchen with the firelight gleaming on its
bright copper, its polished candlesticks, and its snowy floor, you would
think her an admirable housewife, but you would get no clue to those
shrewd and masterful traits of character which reveal themselves chiefly
behind the counter.

Miss Grieve had purchased of Mrs. Nicolson a quarter section of very
appetising ginger-cake to eat with our afternoon tea, and I stepped in
to buy more. She showed me a large round loaf for two shillings.

"No," I objected, "I cannot use a whole loaf, thank you. We eat very
little at a time, and like it perfectly fresh. I wish a small piece such
as my maid bought the other day."

Then ensued a discourse which I cannot render in the vernacular, more's
the pity, though I understood it all too well for my comfort. The
substance of it was this: that she couldna and wouldna tak' it in hand
to give me a quarter section of cake when the other three-quarters might
gae dry in the bakery; that the reason she sold the small piece on the
former occasion was that her daughter, her son-in-law, and their three
children came from Ballahoolish to visit her, and she gave them a
high tea with no expense spared; that at this function they devoured
three-fourths of a ginger-cake, and just as she was mournfully regarding
the remainder my servant came in and took it off her hands; that she had
kept a bakery for thirty years and her mother before her, and never had
a two-shilling ginger-cake been sold in pieces before, nor was it likely
ever to occur again; that if I, under Providence, so to speak, had been
the fortunate gainer by the transaction, why not eat my six penny-worth
in solemn gratitude once for all, and not expect a like miracle to
happen the next week? And finally, that two-shilling ginger-cakes were,
in the very nature of things, designed for large families; and it
was the part of wisdom for small families to fix their affections on
something else, for she couldna and wouldna tak' it in hand to cut a
rare and expensive article for a small customer.

The torrent of logic was over, and I said humbly that I would take the
whole loaf.

"Verra weel, mam," she responded more affably, "thank you kindly; no, I
couldna tak' it in hand to sell six pennyworth of that ginger-cake and
let one-and-sixpence worth gae dry in the bakery.--A beautiful day, mam!
Won'erful blest in weather ye are! Let me open your umbrella for you,
mam!"

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