"Gone to the kitchen, I guess. Wonder she hasn't sailed in and set down
with us. Old chromo! You must be glad her month's most up?"

Asaph proceeded to give his opinion of the housekeeper, raising his
voice almost to a howl, as his indignation grew. If Mrs. Beasley's ears
had been ordinary ones she might have heard the unflattering description
in the kitchen; as it was Mr. Tidditt felt no fear.

"Comin' here so's you could be company for her! The idea! Good to
herself, ain't she! Godfrey scissors! And Bailey was fool enough to--"

"There, there! Don't let it worry you, Ase. I've about decided what
to say when I let her go. I'll tell her she is gettin' too old to be
slavin' herself to death. You see, I don't want to make the old critter
cry, nor I don't want her to get mad. Judgin' by the way she used to
coax the cat outdoors with the broom handle she's got somethin' of a
temper when she gets started. I'll give her an extry month's wages,
and--"

"You will, hey? You WILL?"

The interruption came from behind the partially closed dining-room door.
Mr. Tidditt sank back in his chair. Captain Cy sprang from his and threw
the door wide open. Behind it crouched Mrs. Deborah Beasley. Her eyes
snapped behind her spectacles, her lean form was trembling all over, and
in her right hand she held a mammoth trumpet, the smaller end of which
was connected with her ear.

"You will, hey?" she screamed, brandishing her left fist, but still
keeping the ear trumpet in place with her right. "You WILL? Well, I