the ineffable little
turn of her head.

"Don't, Matilda! What shall we do? the coffee is ready."

"We shall have a brown breakfast," said Matilda. "The coffee will be
the lightest coloured thing on the table." And the two girls relieved
themselves with laughing.

"But, Matilda! what shall we _do?_ We must have something to eat."

"We can boil some eggs," said Matilda. "Aunt Erminia likes eggs; and
the coffee will be good, and the bread. And the potatoes will do to
look at."

So it was arranged; and the bell was rung for breakfast only five
minutes after the time. And all was in order.

Even Mrs. Candy's good eyes found no fault. And breakfast went forward
better than Matilda had dared to hope.

"You have done your potatoes too much, Maria," Mrs. Candy remarked.

"Yes, ma'am," Maria said, meekly.

"They want no more but a light colouring. And they should be cut
thinner. These are so hard you can't eat them. And, Maria, in future I
will tell you what to get for breakfast. I did not know when you went
to bed last night, or I should have told you then. You are not old
enough to arrange things. Now there was some beef left from dinner
yesterday, that would have made a nice hash."

Maria ate bread and butter, and spoke not.

"It will keep very well, and you can make it into hash for to-morrow
morning. Chop it as fine as you can, and twice as much potato; and warm
it with a little butter and milk and pepper and salt, till it is nice
and hot; and poach a few eggs, to lay round it. Can you poach eggs,
Maria?"

"Yes, ma'am. But there is no beef, Aunt Erminia."

"No beef? You are mistaken. There was a large piece that we did not eat
yesterday."

"There is none now," said Maria.

"It must be down-stairs in the cellar."

"I am sure it is not, aunt Erminia. I have been poking into every
corner there; and there is no beef, I know."

"Maria, that is a very inelegant way of speaking. Where did you get it?"

"I don't know, ma'am, I'm sure. Out of the truth, I suppose. That's
what I _did_."

"It is a very inelegant way of doing, as well as of speaking. _Poking_
into every thing! What did you poke? your finger? or your hand?"

"My nose, I suppose," said Maria, hardily.

"I think I need not tell you that _that_ is a very vulgar expression,"
said Mrs. Candy, with a lofty air; while Clarissa's shoulders gave a
little shrug, as much as to say her mother was wasting time. "Don't you
know any better, Maria?"

"Yes,