down as persistently as Patience Riderhood's, and was uncomfortably
easy of identification in _ragout_ and muffins. Her slippers were down
at heel; her kitchen was never in order; her tins were black; her pots
were greasy; her range was dull; her floors unclean. Like all her
compeers, she "found the place harder nor she had been give to
onderstand, but was willin' to do her best, seein' she had come."

Her best was sometimes sour bread, sometimes burned biscuits,
generally weak, muddy coffee, always under-seasoned vegetables and
over-seasoned soup. By July 1, she developed a genius for quarreling
with the other servants that got up a domestic hurricane, and I told
her she must leave. She promptly burst into tears, and reminded me
that I "had engaged her for the sayson, an' what would a pore girl be
doin' in the empty city in the middle of the summer?

"An' whativer they may say o' me ways down-stairs, it's the timper of
a babby I have, an' would niver throw a harrd wurrd at a dog, let
alone a human. Whin they think me cross, it's only that I'm a bit
quoiet, an' who can wonder? thinkin' o' me pore brother as was
drownded las' summer, an' him niver out o' me moind!"

I weakly allowed her to stay upon promise of good and peaceable
behavior, and tried to make the best of her, as she had of the place.

One September day, just when the physician, called in to see a dear
young guest, had expressed his fear that she was sickening for a
serious illness, Katy gave warning. "Her feelin's would not allow her
to stay in a house where there was sickness. It always reminded her of
her pore, dear brother what was drownded las' summer, an' a sick
pairson made a quare lot o' extra work, even when it was considered in