remarkable thing in a good cook; and more remarkable still, was tidy
in her person, and cleanly in her work.

"She is a treasure," said I to my husband, one day, as we passed
from the dining-room, after having partaken of one of her excellent
dinners.

"She's too good," replied Mr. Smith--"too good to last. There must
be some bad fault about her--good cooks always have bad faults--and
I am looking for its appearance every day."

"Don't talk so, Mr. Smith. There is no reason in the world why a
good cook should not be as faultless as any one else."

Even while I said this, certain misgivings intruded themselves. My
husband went to his store soon after.

About three o'clock Margaret presented herself, all dressed to go
out, and said that she was going to see her sister, but would be
back in time to get tea.

She came back, as she promised, but, alas for my good cook! The
fault appeared. She was so much intoxicated that, in attempting to
lift the kettle from the fire, she let it fall, and came near
scalding herself dreadfully. Oh, dear! I shall never forget the sad
disappointment of that hour. How the pleasant images of good dinners
and comfortable breakfasts and suppers faded from my vision. The old
trouble was to come back again, for the faultless cook had
manifested a fault that vitiated, for us, all her good qualities.