whom they have proposed themselves, they have one invariable method of
self-defence: 'Temper, mum? Well, I 'ave my faults, I daresay, but not
_that_; all as knows me knows my temper is 'eavenly. But the fact is,
mum, Mrs. Jones [her late mistress] was a bit flighty.' And she touches
her forehead, and even sometimes winks, to indicate aberration of the
intellect. A really good-tempered servant is now rare; and there are
very few who will bear 'speaking to' when their work is neglected or
ill-done.

What, however, always puts them in the highest good humour is an
expensive breakage. When Susan comes to say, 'Oh, please, mum, I've 'ad
a haccident with the pier glass,' her face is wreathed in smiles. To a
mistress who cannot relieve her feelings by strong language, as a man
would do, this behaviour is very aggravating. If servants do not
actually delight in these misfortunes, I am afraid not one in twenty
shows the least consideration for her employer's purse. It is
charitable to say, when Thomas or Jane leaves the gas burning all
night, or the sun-blinds out in the pouring rain, that they have 'no
head;' but it is my experience that they are very careful, and, indeed,
take quite extraordinary precautions, with respect to their own
property. I am afraid that the true reason of the waste and
extravagance among servants is that they have no attachment to their
employers, and of course it is less troublesome to be lavish than to be
economical. All the education in the world cannot make selfish persons
unselfish; but it can surely implant in them some sense of duty. At
present, so long as a servant is not absolutely dishonest, her
conscience rarely troubles her. This is especially the case with our
cooks, who also--that 'dripping' question making their path so
slippery--draw the line between honesty and its contrary very fine
indeed.

Moreover, they know less of what they pretend to know than any other
class of servant. The proof of this is in the fact that not one in a
hundred of them will cook you a dinner on trial. I have often said to a
cook, 'Your character is satisfactory enough in other respects; but,
before engaging you, will you show what you can do by sending up one
good dinner, for which I will pay you at the ordinary rate--namely,
half-a-guinea?' She won't do it; she says she can cook for a prince,
and affects to be hurt at the proposition. The consequence is that for
a month, at least, we are slowly poisoned. Onc