eturned from the city I found that Eliza had purchased a small
white vase for one-and-ten. The man in the shop had told her that it
was alabaster. I had my doubts about that, but it was quite in my own
taste--rather severe and classical. I complimented Eliza on her choice.

Three days before Christmas I got a letter from Eliza's mother. She
said that she had been afraid that I was worrying about my debt to her
of L4 13_s._ 9_d._ She took advantage of the Christmas season to return
my I.O.U.'s, and begged me to consider the debt as paid.

It was not at all what I had expected.

* * * * *

"No," I said to Eliza at breakfast, "I am not in the least like a bear
with a sore head, and I will thank you not to use the expression. As
for your mother's kindness, I am glad you think it kindness. I wouldn't
have it otherwise. If you weren't a born idiot you wouldn't think so.
My debt to your mother would have been discharged by--discharged in due
course. By reminding me that I owed her money, she has practically
dunned me for it, and forced me to pay her at a most inconvenient time.
She comes badgering me for her dirty money at Christmas, and you call
it 'kindness!' Kindness! Hah! Oh, hah, hah!"

"Don't make those silly noises, and get on with your breakfast!" said
Eliza.

Afterward she asked me if I still meant to send her mother that little
vase.

"Oh, yes!" I said. "We can afford it; it's nothing to us."

Eliza, entirely misunderstanding the word that I next used, got up and
said that she would not stop in the room to hear her poor mother sworn
at.

"The word I used," I said, calmly, "was alabaster, and not what you
suppose."

"You pronounced it just like the other thing."

"I pronounced it in an exclamatory manner," I replied, "from contempt!
You seem to me very ready to think evil. This is not the first time!"

Eliza apologized. As a matter of fact, I really did say alabaster. But
I said it emphatically, and I own that it relieved my feelings.

We keep the silver salt-cellars in the drawer of Eliza's wardrobe as a
general rule. I should prefer to use them every day, or at any rate
every Sunday. But Eliza says that they make work.

"Mother has written to me," she said on the following day, "to say that
she will dine with us on Christmas Day. I had better get the silver
salt-cellars down."

"You'd better _put them up_," I said, meaningly. I know that sounds
rather bitte