"No, my dear girl," he said. "I won't, and I don't. I was thinking
all through dinner about those girls down-stairs. Perhaps--perhaps
I had better talk to them, eh? You are so awfully kind-hearted, and
it does seem to me as though they imposed a little on you, that's
all. The salad to-night was atrocious. It should have been kept on
the ice, instead of which it comes to the table looking like a last
year's bouquet."

Bessie's eyes grew watery. "I'm afraid it was my fault," she said.
"I ought to have looked after the salad myself. I always did at
home. I suppose Jane got it out expecting me to prepare it."

"Oh, well, never mind," said Thaddeus, desirous of soothing the
troubled soul of his wife. "I wouldn't have mentioned it, only Jane
does too much thinking, in a thoughtless way, anyhow. Servants
aren't paid to think."

"I'll tell you what, Thaddeus," said Bessie, her spirits returning,
"we are just as much to blame as they are; we've taken too much for
granted, and so have they. Suppose we spend the evening putting
together a set of rules for the management of the house? It will be
lots of fun, and perhaps it will do the girls good. They ought to
understand that while our parents have had their ways--and
reasonable ways--there is no reason why we should not have our
ways."

"In other words," said Thaddeus, "what we want to draw up is a sort
of Declaration of Independence."