CHAPTER III.

LIGHT ON THE SUBJECT.





"THE oil's out, mum," said Hannah, the domestic who succeeded Kitty,
pushing her head into the room where I sat sewing.

"It can't be," I replied.

"Indade, mum, and it is. There isn't the full of a lamp left," was
the positive answer.

"Then, what have you done with it?" said I, in a firm voice. "It
isn't four days since a gallon was sent home from the store."

"Four days! It's more nor a week, mum!"

"Don't tell me that, Hannah," I replied, firmly; "for I know better.
I was out on last Monday, and told Brown to send us home a gallon."

"Sure, and it's burned, mum, thin! What else could go with it?"

"It never was burned in our lamps," said I, in answer to this.
"You've either wasted it, or given it away."