Hitherto George, who probably had recalled to mind what he had said
to Emily previous to commencing housekeeping, had never, except in a
playful manner, alluded to the ill-dressed food which daily made its
appearance on the table. To-day, however, when they returned from
church and sat down to dinner, probably owing to being a little sore
on the subject of the soiled linen, Emily saw him knit his brows in
rather a portentous manner, while, in no very amiable tone of voice,
he said--

"It appears to me that this girl don't understand how to do anything
as it ought to be done--not even to boil a piece of corned beef.
This is as salt as the ocean, and hard as a flint. If the girl has
common sense, I am sure she could do better if you would give her a
few directions. I confess that I am tired of eating ill-cooked meat,
half-done vegetables, and heavy bread, and of drinking a certain
muddy decoction, dignified by the name of coffee."

"Such food is, of course, no more palatable to me than to you; but I
thought, by what I have heard you stay, that you would not be
pleased when you came home to dinner to see me with a flushed face
and in an unbecoming dress, which must be the case if I undertake to
do the principal part of the cooking myself, and to superintend the
whole."

"We must try and get some one that will do better," said George.

"I don't think that it will be of any use," replied Emily. "We may
as well try her another week."