which she
replied, that it was a vanilla-bottle into which she had emptied the
liniment, as that in which the lotion belonged had been cracked, and
that she had stood it "just there."

A horrible conviction rushed upon Jim: "just there" was the place from
which he had taken the bottle he brought to me. He dashed into the
front basement, found there the bottle in question, and speedily
verified his own fears; then hurried up-stairs to prevent Thomas from
taking in the "food for the gods." Alas! it was too late: the dish was
already dispensed, a due portion having also been sent in to the
tea-table in the library; and my disgrace was an accomplished fact.

Dread of the after consequences now took possession of Jim, and this
impelled him to an immediate disclosure of the mistake. Indeed, none of
us were without our misgivings; and Edward, sending for the bottle,
went with it at once to our family physician, who lived but a few doors
from us.

Dr. Graham laughed heartily when he heard of the mishap, and told
Edward that there was no cause for alarm; as, although he would not
advise unlimited indulgence in the lotion as a beverage, such harmful
qualities as its ingredients possessed would be reduced to a minimum
when mixed in the proportion Edward mentioned with the other articles
of which the "food for the gods" was compounded.

So the matter became a joke to every one but me and the old cook, who
received a severe reprimand for her carelessness in putting the
liniment in an improper receptacle, and then leaving it in an improper
place.

Thus ended my attempt at culinary distinction; a regard for the
well-being of my friends and even for their lives, inducing me to quit
the field without further trial of my powers.

What a long tale about a foolish mistake, it may be said; but, as
"great events from little causes spring," the results of that mistake
were vast and far-reaching, and we had not yet heard the last of the
"food for the gods."

CHAPTER V.

THE "MORNING BUGLE."

"Look at this disconsolate pair; melancholy has evidently marked them
for her own," said Bessie Sanford, as she and I crossed the corner of
the square, bound for an afternoon walk; aimless, except in the search
for fresh air and exercise.

The "disconsolate pair" were my little sisters, Allie and Daisy, who
now approached, trundling their dolls' perambulators in front of them,
and followed by mammy, who came limping after, also weari