et
nothing escape her.

"Kneading looks so easy when you do it," she lamented; "but I can't seem
to help getting stuck."

"That will come with practice--if you ever try another batch, which I
doubt. And it's the kneading that is so good for your arms."

"Yours are beautiful--and so strong, it must be fun to own them."

"There are times when a bit of muscle is of use in a hustling world,"
admitted her cousin. "There, I think that dough will do very well. Turn
it over and lay it smoothly in the bowl--so. Cover it with its white
blanket--so; and leave it right here, where it will have a good warm
temperature to rise in. Now, run up and snatch another nap; you'll have
plenty of time."

"You're not going back to bed?"

"Rather not!" Georgiana's smile strove to be tolerant. "There are just a
few things to be done about the house, and they are best done before
breakfast. Off with you, lady cousin!"

"Do you always get up so early?" Jeannette persisted.

"I have an extraordinary fondness for early rising," Georgiana
explained. "It's foolish, of course, but it's an old habit. Good-bye, my
dear; my next errand is down cellar," and she vanished from the sight of
her guest, quite unable to keep herself longer in hand before the
amazing point of view of this daughter of luxury.

The "next errand" was the washing of the handful of fine towels with
which the painstaking hostess was keeping the guest-room supplied,
unwilling to furnish the aristocratic young person upstairs with the
coarser articles used by herself and the others. Jeannette, all unaware
that the snowy linen with which her room was kept plentifully supplied
was constantly relaundered in secret by Georgiana's own hands, was as
lavish in her use of it as she was accustomed to be at home, and the
result was a quite unbelievable amount of extra work for her cousin.

Mr. Warne, coming upon his daughter by chance in this very early morning
flurry of laundering, expressed himself upon the subject in the gentle
but positive way which was his.

"Why do it, my dear?" he questioned. "Are the sheets and towels we use
not quite good enough for others?"

"Not half good enough for Lady Jean," responded the laundress, rubbing
energetically away--yet carefully, too, for the old linen was not so
stout as it once had been.

"You are intentionally deceiving her, aren't you, daughter? Why do
that?--since it is not necessary for her comfort."

"But it is. She would shudder