ey had been taken off. The kitchen, into which our friend now
entered, was in the same disorderly state. Numerous copper pans stood
simmering on the charcoal stoves, and the jointless jack still revolved on
the spit. A dirty slip-shod girl sat sleeping, with her apron thrown over
her head, which rested on the end of a table. The open door of the
servants' hall hard by disclosed a pile of dress and other clothes, which,
after mopping up the ale and other slops, would be carefully folded and
taken back to the rooms of their respective owners.

[Illustration: DOMESTIC ECONOMY OF NONSUCH HOUSE]

'Halloo!' cried Mr. Sponge, shaking the sleeping girl by the shoulder,
which caused her to start up, stare, and rub her eyes in wild affright.
'Halloo!' repeated he, 'what's happened you?'

'Oh, beg pardon, sir!' exclaimed she; 'beg pardon,' continued she, clasping
her hands; 'I'll never do so again, sir; no, sir, I'll never do so again,
indeed I won't.'

She had just stolen a shape of blanc-mange, and thought she was caught.

'Then show me where I'll find pen and ink and paper,' replied our friend.

'Oh, sir, I don't know nothin' about them,' replied the girl; 'indeed, sir,
I don't'; thinking it was some other petty larceny he was inquiring about.

'Well, but you can tell me where to find a sheet of paper, surely?'
rejoined he.

'Oh, indeed, sir, I can't,' replied she; 'I know nothin' about nothin' of
the sort.' Servants never do.

'What sort?' asked Mr. Sponge, wondering at her vehemence.

'Well, sir, about what you said,' sobbed the girl, applying the corner of
her dirty apron to her eyes.

'Hang it, the girl's mad,' rejoined our friend, brushing by, and making for
the passage beyond. This brought him past the still-room, the steward's
room, the housekeeper's room, and the butler's pantry. All were in most
glorious confusion; in the latter, Captain Cutitfat's lacquer-toed,
lavender-coloured dress-boots were reposing in the silver soup tureen, and
Captain Bouncey's varnished pumps were stuffed into a wine-cooler. The last
detachment of empty bottles stood or lay about the floor, commingling with
boot-jacks, knife-trays, bath-bricks, coat-brushes, candle-end boxes,
plates, lanterns, lamp-glasses, oil bottles, corkscrews,
wine-strainers--the usual miscellaneous appendages of a butler's pantry.
All was still and quiet; not a sound, save the loud ticking of a timepiece,
or the occasional creak of a jarring door, disturbed t