olent temper.
I wondered what he looked like when by chance he was happy and pleased!

The West End firm got through their work in record time, and at the end
of three weeks Charmion and I took possession, and set to work at the
task of putting our house in order. Every woman delights in this work
in _prospect_; in reality, every one comes full tilt against a score of
irritating, aggravating _contretemps_ which baulk her carefully-laid
schemes.

Our _contretemps_ appeared in a very usual form. The cook and gardener,
who had been definitely engaged to meet us on our arrival, and whom we
had, therefore, not replaced in town, sent missives instead, to "hope
they didn't inconvenience, but they had changed their minds". The two
town servants who _had_ arrived were immediately plunged into woe, and,
looking into their set, dour faces, one could _hear_ the inward thought,
"Don't believe anyone ever _was_ engaged! Just one of their tricks to
get us down here to do the work alone." We left them sitting like
monuments of woe in the kitchen, and shut ourselves up in the
drawing-room to consult.

"Uplands, I conclude," said Charmion coldly.

"Oh, no! I don't believe it. He wouldn't condescend to _that_!"

"Why not? He stopped the work in the house."

"That was different! After all, he _is_ the Squire, and when it was a
case of inconveniencing him, or a stranger--a local tradesman could
hardly be expected to put us first. At least, you can _understand_ his
position."

"Does the same argument apply to local domestics?"

"It might do; but I don't believe it was used. To give a tradesman an
order for now or never, and to--to stoop to bribe a servant to break an
engagement--surely they are two different things! I do _not_ believe
Mr Maplestone would do it!"

"Well!--we shall see. In the meantime, what about dinner?"

I went back to the kitchen and talked to the Londoners, smiling
radiantly the while. I said it was upsetting, but we must expect
upsets. No one ever settled into a new house without one. I said there
would be no difficulty in getting another cook--we would telegraph for
one to-morrow; in the meantime we would just picnic, and do the best we
could. I looked from one sulky face to another, and asked
confidently:--

"Now, which of you is the better cook?"

The parlour-maid said she was a parlour-maid. She had never been
_asked_ to cook. She could make tea.

I said, "Thank you!" and turned to