sils were bright and clean; and thanks to the
marvellous and economical inventions of modern science (which are always
beyond the reach of the poorer classes, to whom they are most necessary,
because they can only be practised on a large scale), not only the fire
on the hearth, and in the stoves, was fed with half the quantity of
fuel that would have been consumed by each family individually, but the
excess of the caloric sufficed, with the aid of well-constructed tubes,
to spread a mild and equal warmth through all parts of the house. And
here also children, under the direction of two women, rendered numerous
services. Nothing could be more comic than the serious manner in which
they performed their culinary functions; it was the same with the
assistance they gave in the bakehouse, where, at an extraordinary saving
in the price (for they bought flour wholesale), they made an excellent
household bread, composed of pure wheat and rye, so preferable to
that whiter bread, which too often owes its apparent qualities to some
deleterious substance.

"Good-day, Dame Bertrand," said Agricola, gayly, to a worthy matron, who
was gravely contemplating the slow evolution of several spits, worthy
of Gamache's Wedding so heavily were they laden with pieces of beef,
mutton, and veal, which began to assume a fine golden brown color of the
most attractive kind; "good-day, Dame Bertrand. According to the rule,
I do not pass the threshold of the kitchen. I only wish it to be admired
by this young lady, who is a new-comer amongst us."

"Admire, my lad, pray admire--and above all take notice, how good these
brats are, and how well they work!" So saying, the matron pointed with
the long ladle, which served her as a sceptre, to some fifteen children
of both sexes, seated round a table, and deeply absorbed in the exercise
of their functions, which consisted in peeling potatoes and picking
herbs.

"We are, I see, to have a downright Belshazzar's feast, Dame Bertrand?"
said Agricola, laughing.

"Faith, a feast like we have always, my lad. Here is our bill of fare
for to-day. A good vegetable soup, roast beef with potatoes, salad,
fruit, cheese; and for extras, it being Sunday, some currant tarts made
by Mother Denis at the bakehouse, where the oven is heating now."

"What you tell me, Dame Bertrand, gives me a furious appetite," said
Agricola, gayly. "One soon knows when it is your turn in the kitchen,"
added he, with a flattering air.

"