ws
on; you get a pint measure full of snails----"

"There, do hold your tongue, it's enough to make anyone ill to think
of," said Amaryllis, angrily, and Bill was silent as to the cod-liver
oil virtues of snails. Amaryllis went to fetch a glass of milk for
Amadis.

A robin came into the court, and perching on the edge of a tub,
fluttered his wings, cried "Check, check," "Anything for me this
morning?" and so put his head on one side, languishing and persuasive.

"My sister, as was in a decline, used to have snail-oil rubbed into her
back," said Luce, the maid, who had been standing in the doorway with a
duster.

"A pretty state of things," cried Mrs. Hen, in a passion. "You standing
there doing nothing, and it's butter-making morning, and everything
behind, and you idling and talking,"--rushing out from the dairy, and
following Luce, who retreated indoors.

"Hur'll catch it," said Bill Nye.

"Missis is ----" said Jearje, supplying the blank with a wink, and
meaning in a temper this morning. "Missis," like all nervous people, was
always in a fury about nothing when her mind was intent on an object; in
this case, the butter.

"Here's eleven o'clock," she cried, in the sitting-room, pointing to the
clock, "and the beds ain't made."

"I've made the beds," said stolid Luce.

"And the fire isn't dusted up."

"I've dusted up the fire."

"And you're a lazy slut"--pushing Luce about the room.

"I bean't a lazy slut."

"You haven't touched the mantelpiece; give me the duster!"--snatching it
from her.

"He be done."

"All you can do is to stand and talk with the men. There's no water
taken up stairs."

"That there be."

"You know you ought to be doing something; the lazy lot of people in
this house; I never saw anything like it; there's Mr. Iden's other boots
to be cleaned, and there's the parlour to be swept, and the path to be
weeded, and the things to be taken over for washing, and the teapot
ought to go in to Woolhorton, you know the lid's loose, and the children
will be here in a minute for the scraps, and your master will be in to
lunch, and there's not a soul to help me in the least," and so, flinging
the duster at Luce, out she flew into the court, and thence into the
kitchen, where she cut a great slice of bread and cheese, and drew a
quart of ale, and took them out to Bill Nye.

"Aw, thank'ee m'm," said Bill, from the very depth of his chest, and set
to work happily.

Next, she drew a mug for