her." This time Emilie was more successful; she took
pains to understand what was to be done, and the gores of her balloon
fitted beautifully.

"Now Edith, dear, ring for some paste," said Emilie, just as the clock
struck four; Margaret answered the bell. Margaret was the housemaid, and
so far from endeavouring in her capacity to overcome evil with good, she
was perpetually making mischief and increasing any evil there might be,
either in kitchen or parlour, by her mode of delivering a message. She
would be sure to add her mite to any blame that she might hear, in her
report to the kitchen, and thus, without being herself a bad or violent
temper, was continually fomenting strife, and adding fuel to the fire of
the cook, who was of a very choleric turn. The request for paste was
civilly made and received, but Emilie unfortunately called Margaret back
to say, "Oh, ask cook, please, to make it stiffer than she did the last
that we had for the kite; that did not prove quite strong."

Margaret took the message down and informed cook that "Miss Schomberg
did not think she knew how to make paste." "Then let her come and make
it herself," said cook. "She wants to be cook I think; she had better
come. I sha'nt make it. What is it for?"

"Oh," said Margaret, "she is after some foreign filagree work of hers,
that's all."

"Well, I'm busy now and I am not going to put myself out about it, she
must wait."

Emilie did wait the due time, but as the paste did not come she went
down for it. "Is the paste ready, cook?" she asked.

"No, Miss Schomberg," was the short reply, and cook went on assiduously
washing up her plates.

"Will you be so kind as to make it, cook, for I want it particularly
that it may have as much time as possible to dry."

"Perhaps you will make it yourself then," was the gracious rejoinder.
Emilie was not above making a little paste, and as she saw that
something had put cook out, she willingly consented; but she did not
know where to get either flour or saucepan, and cook and Margaret kept
making signs and laughing, so that it was not very pleasant. She grew
quite hot, as she had to ask first for a spoon, then for a saucepan,
then for the flour and water; at last she modestly turned round and
said, "Cook, I really do not quite know how to make a little paste. I
am ashamed to say it, but I have lived so long in lodgings that I see
nothing of what is done in the kitchen. Will you tell or show me? I am
very