door open as the clock struck.

One night at about twelve as I was sitting at my desk in the library, I
heard someone trying to get in. I knew it was the waiter who had slipped
out without leave, so I turned out the gas, put my head out of the
window and said 'I know it must be a robber, for they are all in,' and
seeing his form I fired off my revolver overhead.--No servant ever tried
again to enter by stealing in after hours. When my sister kept house I
suffered much for want of dishes during many days in the week.--There
was very little variety.

Sundays we had only potatoes and cold meat.

'Why,' I asked.

'They must go to church, my dear brother.'

Mondays, one fry, not even a roast, it was washing day, all the heat
must be turned off from the oven for the boiler.--The cook wouldn't have
it roasted in front, the only true way.

So no dessert could be baked.

Tuesdays I could have no company for it was ironing day, and the irons
filled up the range and nothing extra could be made. I submitted to my
sister.

But now I had soup every day, and whenever I saw anything very good in
market I ordered it home and had it cooked. Strange isn't it, with the
same range and the same cook? Before my reign we could not breakfast