aloud, to keep up her
courage. "Too bad for that old beast to keep us locked out from the very
place us ought to have for pommylarding, because he saith all the fruit
would go into our pockets. And what goes into his'en, I should like to
know? Suppose I lock him out, as he hath locked us out. He won't be back
yet for half an hour, anyway. Wish I could write--what a list I would
make, if it was only of the things he denieth he hath got!"

Strong in her own honesty and loyalty to her master, the cook turned the
key in the lock, and left Swipes to ring himself into his own garden, as
he always called it. That is to say, if he should return, which was not
very likely, before she had time for a good look round. But she saw
such a sight of things she had longed for, to redeem her repute in the
vegetable way, as well as such herbs for dainty stuffing, of which she
knew more than cooks generally do, that her cap nearly came off her head
with amazement, and time flew by unheeded. Until she was startled and
terrified sadly by the loud, angry clang of the bell in the gable. Not
only was Mr. Swipes come back, but he was in a furious rage outside,
though his fury was chilled with some shivers of fear. At first, when he
found the door locked against him, he thought that the Admiral must have
come home unexpected, and failing to find him at work, had turned the
key against him, while himself inside. If so, his situation would be in
sad peril, and many acres of lies would be required to redeem it. For
trusting in his master's long times of absence, and full times of public
duty when at home, Mr. Swipes had grown more private stock, as he
called it, and denied the kitchen more, than he had ever done before,
in special preparation for some public dinners about to be given at the
Darling Arms, by military officers to naval, and in turn by the latter
to the former; for those were hospitable days, when all true Britons
stuck their country's enemy with knife and fork, as well as sword.

But learning, as he soon did at the stables, that the Admiral was still
away, and both the young ladies were gone for a ride with Miss Twemlow,
the gardener came back in a rage, and rang the bell. "Oh, whatever shall
I do?" the trembling Mary asked herself. "Best take the upper hand if
I can. He's a thief, and a rogue, and he ought to be frighted. Does
he know I can't write? No, for certain he dothn't. One of his big lies
about me was a letter I wrote to poo