round-faced, vacant-looking damsel of sixteen summers, who
had come straight from an industrial home to serve in the O'Shaughnessy
family. She was scrupulously clean, admirably willing, and so blindly
obedient that in the bosom of the family she was known by the title of
"Casabianca." She understood to a nicety how to dust and sweep, make
beds and turn out a room, but the manners and customs of gentlefolk had
been an unknown science to her before entering her present situation,
and anything that Bridgie chose to do was, in her eyes, a demonstration
of what was right and proper. She adored her young mistress, and
trembled at the new tone of severity in which she was addressed.

"Please, ma'am, I did nothing at it!"

"But something has happened to it, Sarah--that's quite certain. Think
now--think carefully what you have done since I left the kitchen. I am
not angry, only anxious to find out what has gone wrong."

It was really most embarrassing. The three young gentlemen were
watching her with laughing eyes, the pretty young lady in the pink dress
was staring at her plate and twisting her lips to keep from smiling, the
Missis sat up straight in her chair and looked so grave and masterful.
Like Topsy of old, Sarah tried hard to find something to confess, but
failed to recall any delinquencies.

"I took it out of the oven when you said, and put it on a plate. I
brought it into the room--"

"You are quite sure you didn't let anything fall into it by mistake?"

"Please, ma'am, there was nothing to fall. I had tidied the things away
before I touched it. I put the macaroni sticks back in the bag and the
beeswax along of the turpentine for to-morrow's cleaning--all that you
didn't use for the pudding."

"The--the--what?" gasped Bridgie breathlessly.

But the next moment a great burst of laughter all round the table
greeted the solution of the mystery. Pat capered about the floor, Jack
put his elbows on the table and peered at Sylvia with dancing eyes,
Miles undauntedly helped himself to another spoonful, and wagged his
head as who should say that, beeswax or no beeswax, he stuck to his
favourable verdict on the "mixture." Bridgie's soft, gurgling laugh was
full of unaffected enjoyment.

"Did ever I hear the like of that? It was a lump of beeswax, and I
mistook it for cheese! It looked just like it--so smooth, and yellow,
and hard--too hard, maybe--but I was blaming Mary for that, not the
cheese, and think