arranged to take it in the spring, and then accepted a loving
invitation to Folkestone, where my grandmother and two aunts were
living, to look for work there. And found it. The vicar wanted a
governess, and one of my aunts suggested me as a stop-gap, and thither
I went with my little Mabel, our board and lodging being payment for
my work. I became head cook, governess, and nurse, glad enough to have
found "something to do" that enabled me to save my little income. But
I do not think I will ever take to cooking for a permanence; broiling
and frying are all right, and making pie-crust is rather pleasant; but
saucepans and kettles blister your hands. There is a charm in making a
stew, to the unaccustomed cook, from the excitement of wondering what
the result will be, and whether any flavour save that of onions will
survive the competition in the mixture. On the whole, my cooking
(strictly by cookery book) was a success, but my sweeping was bad, for
I lacked muscle. This curious episode came to an abrupt end, for one
of my little pupils fell ill with diphtheria, and I was transformed
from cook to nurse. Mabel I despatched to her grandmother, who adored
her with a love condescendingly returned by the little fairy of three,
and never was there a prettier picture than the red-gold curls nestled
against the white, the baby-grace in exquisite contrast with the worn
stateliness of her tender nurse. Scarcely was my little patient out of
danger when the youngest boy fell ill of scarlet fever; we decided to
isolate him on the top floor, and I cleared away carpets and curtains,
hung sheets over the doorways and kept them wet with chloride of lime,
shut myself up there with the boy, having my meals left on the
landing; and when all risk was over, proudly handed back my charge,
the disease touching no one else in the house.

And now the spring of 1874 had come, and in a few weeks my mother and
I were to set up house together. How we had planned all, and had