"My housekeeper came to me a few months ago," said the Woman of the
World, "to tell me that my cook had given notice. 'I am sorry to
hear it,' I answered; 'has she found a better place?' 'I am not so
sure about that,' answered Markham; 'she's going as general
servant.' 'As general servant!' I exclaimed. 'To old Hudson, at
the coal wharf,' answered Markham. 'His wife died last year, if you
remember. He's got seven children, poor man, and no one to look
after them.' 'I suppose you mean,' I said, 'that she's marrying
him.' 'Well, that's the way she puts it,' laughed Markham. 'What I
tell her is, she's giving up a good home and fifty pounds a year, to
be a general servant on nothing a week. But they never see it.'"

"I recollect her," answered the Minor Poet, "a somewhat depressing
lady. Let me take another case. You possess a remarkably pretty
housemaid--Edith, if I have it rightly."

"I have noticed her," remarked the Philosopher. "Her manners strike
me as really quite exceptional."

"I never could stand any one about me with carroty hair," remarked
the Girton Girl.

"I should hardly call it carroty," contended the Philosopher.
"There is a golden tint of much richness underlying, when you look
closely."

"She is a very good girl," agreed the Woman of the World; "but I am
afraid I shall have to get rid of her. The other woman servants