and a cruet-stand were all she ever thought necessary; and even for a
centre vase of flowers I had to ask, and often to insist, during the
time she was single-handed.

But here was my strawberry-bowl, a pretty one, even when unadorned,
with its pure white porcelain stem, intwined with a wreath of blue
convolvulus, and then a spray of white, the petals just peeping over
the edge of the bowl, and resting near the luscious red fruit; the
cream-jug, also white, had twining flowers of blue, and round the
lemonade-jug, of glass, was a wreath of yellow blossoms.

"How exquisite!" exclaimed we all. "What fairy could have bestowed
such a treat to our eyes and delight to our sense of the beautiful?"

I supposed some friend of the cook's or Mary's had been taking
lessons in the art of decoration, and had given us a specimen.

Soon after, my friends having gone, I thought of J. Cole waiting to
be dismissed, and sent for him.

Cook came in, and with a preliminary "Ahem!" which I knew of old
meant, "I have an idea of my own, and I mean to get it carried out,"
said, "Oh, if you please 'm, if I might be so bold, did you think
serious of engagin' the boy that's waitin' in the kitchen?"

"Why do you ask, Cook? "I said.

"Well, ma'am," she replied, trying to hide a laugh, "of course it's
not for me to presume; but, if I might say a word for him, I think
he's the very handiest and the sharpest one we've ever had in this