"Polly is going, ma'am," said one of my domestics, as the twilight
began to fall.

"Very well. Tell her that I shall want her tomorrow."

"I think she would like to have her money for to-day's work," said
the girl.

I took out my purse, and found that I had nothing in it less than a
three-dollar bill.

"How much does she have a day?"

"Six shillings, ma'am."

"I haven't the change this evening. Tell her that I'll pay for both
days to-morrow."

The girl left the room, and I thought no more of Polly for an hour.
Tea-time had come and passed, when one of my domestics, who was
rather communicative in her habits, said to me:

"I don't think old Polly liked your not paying her this evening."

"She must be very unreasonable, then," said I, without reflection.
"I sent her word that I had no change. How did she expect I could
pay her?"

"Some people are queer, you know, Mrs. Graham," remarked the girl
who had made the communication, more for the pleasure of telling it