length of offering her marriage before he flew away, she cleaned the
entire house down in her enthusiasm--and had actually got to the
cellars before he vanished out of her life.

You will now understand why I was dejected at the perfidy of the
follower belonging to the Boilermakers' Society. I saw a dreary period
of discomfort ahead of me. Worst of all I was expecting the Boscombes
to dinner that very week. They had not before visited us, and Henry
was anxious to impress Mr. Boscombe, he being a publisher. It is
surprising, when you come to think of it, how full the world is of
writers trying to make a good impression on publishers. Yet no one has
met the publisher who ever tries to make a good impression on any one.

I will not elaborate the situation as it stood. All I can say is that
there is no earthly possibility of making a good impression on any
living thing if Elizabeth is in one of her bad moods. And it would be
no use explaining the case to Mrs. Boscombe, because she has no sense
of humour; or to Mr. Boscombe, because he likes a good dinner.

Finally, the Domestic Bureau failed me. Hitherto they had always been
able to supply me with a temporary waitress on the occasion of dinner
parties. Now it appeared these commodities had become pearls of great
price which could no longer be cast before me and mine (at the modest
fee of ten shillings a night) without at least fourteen days' notice.

The Bureau promised to do its best for me, of course, but reminded me
that women were scarce. I asked, with bitterness, what had become of
the surplus million we heard so much about. They replied with
politeness that, judging from the number of applications received, they
must be the million in search of domestics.