for things."

"My Bridget!" I said, in surprise.

I instantly rang the bell.

"Tell Bridget I want her," said I to the waiter who came to the
door. The cook soon appeared.

"Bridget, are you in the habit of borrowing from Mrs. Jordon without
my knowledge?"

"No, ma'am!" replied the girl firmly, and without any mark of
disturbance in her face.

"Din't you get a bar of soap from our house yesterday?" asked Mrs.
Jordon.

"Yes, ma'am," returned Bridget, "but it was soap you owed us."

"Owed you!"

"Yes, Ma am. Nancy got a bar of soap from me last washing-day, and I
went in for it yesterday."

"But Nancy told me you wanted to borrow it," said Mrs. Jordon.

"Nancy knew better," said Bridget, with a face slightly flushed; but
any one could see that it was a flush of indignation.

"Will you step into my house and tell Nancy I want to see her?"

"Certainly, ma'am." And Bridget retired.

"These servants have been playing a high game, I fear," remarked
Mrs. Jordon, after Bridget had left the room. "Pardon me, if in my
surprise I have spoken in a manner that has seemed offensive."

"Most certainly there is a game playing that I know nothing about,
if anything has been borrowed of you in my name for these three
months," said I.

"I have heard of your borrowing something or other almost every day
during the time you mention," replied Mrs. Jordon. "As for me, I
have sent into you a few times; but not oftener, I am sure, than
once in a week."

Bridget returned, after having been gone several minutes, and said
Nancy would be in directly. We waited for some time, and then sent
for her again. Word was brought back that she was nowhere to be
found in the house.

"Come in with me, Mrs. Smith," said my neighbor, rising. I did so,
according to her request. Sure enough, Nancy was gone. We went up
into her room, and found that she had bundled up her clothes and
taken them off, but left behind her unmistakable evidence of what
she had been doing. In an old chest which Mrs. Jordon had let her
use for her clothes were many packages of tea, burnt coffee, sugar,
soap, eggs; a tin kettle containing a pound of butter, and various
other articles of table use.

Poor Mrs. Jordon seemed bewildered.

"Let me look at that pound lump of butter," said I.

Mrs. Jordon took up the kettle containing it. "It isn't my butter,"
she remarked.

"But it's mine, and the very pound she got of me yesterday for you."

"Gracious me!" ejacul