herself, and that she should expect her to do them.

Deborah went about her task very unwillingly. She told Emily that
she knew she should sp'ile the whole lot, and she proved a true
prophetess. The shirt-bosoms and collars bore indisputable evidence
that she was not stinted for fuel, the hot flat-iron having left its
full impress upon some, while "Charcoal Sketches," of a kind never
dreamed of by Neal, were conspicuous on others. As for the muslins
and laces, being of a frailer fabric, they gave way beneath the
vigorous treatment to which they were subjected, and exhibited mere
wrecks of their former selves. Not a single article was wearable
which had passed through the severe ordeal of being starched and
ironed by Deborah, and what was still more lamentable, many of them
could not even, like an antique painting or statue, be restored.

"This is too bad," said George, as he contemplated his soiled and
scorched linen. "It appears to me, Emily, that you might have seen
what the girl was about before she spoiled the whole."

"How could I," said Emily, "when she was in the kitchen and I was in
the parlour--hem-stitching your linen handkerchiefs? Pedy never
needed any overseeing."

Some linen of a coarser texture which had passed through Pedy's
hands, was obliged to be resorted to on the present occasion, while
Emily concealed her chagrin from George on account of the
destruction of some Brussels lace, the gift of the same generous
uncle who gave her the harp. She silently made up her mind that for
the future she would not trust such articles to the unskilful
Deborah.