ouring the last number of
the _Family Paper_. She had come to a most rousing portion in her
story--that part in which the duke marries the governess. Betty was, as
she said, all in a twitter to see how matters would end; but just at this
crucial moment the girls burst in.

"Betty, do stop reading," said Verena. "She's come, Betty."

"I know," cried Betty. "I'm not deaf, I suppose. John told me. He brought
her, drat him! He says she's the sort to turn the house topsy-turvy. I'll
have none of her. I won't alter my ways--no, not a hand's-turn--for the
like of her, and I go this day month."

"Oh, Betty!" said Verena.

"I do, my dear; I do. I can't put up with the ways of them sort--never
could. I like you well enough, young ladies, and your pa; and I'd stop
with you willing--so I would, honey--but I can't abide the likes of her."

"All the same, she's come, Betty, and we must have something for dinner.
Have you anything in the house?"

"Not a blessed handful."

"Oh, Betty!" said Verena; "and I told you this morning, and so did nurse.
We said we must have dinner to-night at seven o'clock. You should have
got something for her."

"But I ain't done it. The stove's out of order; we want the sweep. I have
a splitting headache, and I'm just reading to keep my mind off the pain."

"But what are we to do? We must get her something."

"Can't she have tea and bread-and-butter? We've half-a-pound of cooking
butter in the house."

"Are there any eggs?"

"No. I broke the last carrying it across the kitchen an hour ago. My
hands were all of a tremble with the pain, and the egg slipped."

"Betty, you are too dreadful! Won't you put that paper down and try to
help us?"

Betty looked at the three faces. In their shabby dresses, and with their
pretty, anxious eyes, Verena having a frown between her charming brows,
they made a picture that struck the cook's heart. With all her odd and
peculiar ways, she was affectionate.

"Are you fretting about it, Miss Renny?" she asked.

As she spoke she put down her feet and pushed the tempting number of the
_Family Paper_ from her.

"There!" she said; "poor little Miss Dunstable may marry the Dook of
Mauleverer-Wolverhampton just as soon as she pleases, but I won't have
you put out, Miss Renny."

"I did want something nice for dinner," said Verena.

"Then I'll manage it. There ain't a better cook than I anywhere when I'm
put on my mettle. Miss Penny, will you help me?"

"Certain