Throwing about her a glance, which was
not one of admiration, La Fleur remarked,--

"I suppose you are the cook of the house."

"Indade, an' I am," said Molly, still upon the stool, with a knife in one
hand, and a potato, with a long paring hanging from it, in the other;
"an' the washer-woman, an' the chambermaid, an' the butler, too, as loike
as may be. An' who may you be, an' which do you want to see?"

"I am Madame La Fleur," said the other, with a stateliness that none of
her mistresses ever supposed that she possessed. "I came to see Mrs.
Drane, in whose service I was formerly engaged, and I wish to know for
myself what sort of a person was cooking for the ladies whose meals I
used to prepare."

Molly put down her knife and her half-pared potato, and arose. She had
heard of La Fleur, whose fame had spread through and about Thorbury.

"Sit down, mum," said she. "This isn't much of a kitchen, for I
haven't had time to clane it up, an' as for me, I'm not much of a
cook, nather; for when ye have to be iverything, ye can't be anything
to no great ixtent."

La Fleur, still standing, looked at her severely.

"How often do you bake?" she asked.

"Three times a week," answered Molly, lying.

"The ladies upstairs," said La Fleur, "have been accustomed to fresh
rolls every morning for their breakfast."

"An' afther this, they shall have 'em," said Molly, "Sundays an' weekday,
an' sorry I am that I didn't know before that they was used to have 'em."

"How do you make your coffee?" asked La Fleur.

Molly looked at her hesitatingly.

"I am very keerful about that," she said. "I niver let it bile too
much--"

"Ugh!" exclaimed La Fleur, raising her hand. "Tell your mistress to get
you a French coffee-pot, and if you don't know how to use it, I'll come
and teach you. I shall be here off and on as long as Mrs. Drane stops in
this house." And then, seating herself, La Fleur proceeded to put Molly
through an elementary domestic service examination.

"Well," said the examiner, when she had finished, "I think you must be
the worst cook in this part of the country."

"No, mum, I'm not," said Molly. "There was one here afore me, a nager
woman named Phoebe, that must have been worse, from what I'm told."

"Where I have lived," said La Fleur, "they have such women to cook for the
farm laborers."

"Beggin' your pardon, mum," said Molly, "that's what they are here, or
th' same thing. Mr. Haverley, he works on the farm wi