pbell: "And she left you to meet her here, and keep her--a cook
you'd never set eyes on! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ah, ha, ha, ha! What's her
name?"

Roberts: "Agnes couldn't remember her last name--one never remembers a
cook's last name. Her first name is Norah or Bridget."

Campbell: "Maggie, perhaps; they all sound alike. Ah, ha, ha! Ha, ha,
ha! This improves."

Roberts: "Don't, Willis; you'll attract attention. What--what shall I
do? If Agnes comes back, and finds I've let the cook get away, she'll
be terribly put out."

Campbell: "Perfectly furious, you poor old fellow!--the rage of a
disappointed pigeon! I wouldn't be in your shoes for anything. Oh my!
I wish Amy was here. Did--did--Agnes"--(he struggles with his
laughter, and explodes from time to time between syllables)--"did she
tell you how the woman looked?"

Roberts: "She said she was a very respectable-looking old thing--a
perfect butter-ball. I suppose she was stout."

Campbell: "That covers the ground of a great many cooks. They're apt
to look respectable when they're off duty and they're not in liquor,
and they're apt to be perfect butter-balls. Any other distinctive
traits?"

Roberts, ruefully: "I don't know. She's Irish, and a Catholic."

Campbell: "They're apt to be Irish, and Catholics too. Well, Roberts,
I don't see what you can ask better. All you've got to do is to pick
out a respectable butter-ball of that religion and nationality, and
tell her you're Mrs. Roberts's husband, and you're to keep her from
slipping away till Mrs. Roberts gets here."

Roberts: "Oh, pshaw, now, Willis! What would you do?"

Campbell: "_There's_ a respectable butter-ball over in the corner by
the window there. You'd better go and speak to her. She's got a
gingham bundle, like a cook's, in her lap, and she keeps looking about
in a fidgety way, as if she expected somebody. I guess that's your
woman, Roberts. Better not let her give you the slip. You'll never
hear the last of it from Agnes if you do. And who'll get our dinner
to-night?"

Roberts, looking over at the woman in the corner, with growing
conviction; "She does answer to the description."

Campbell: "Yes, and she looks tired of waiting. If I know anything of
that woman's character, Roberts, she thinks she's been trifled with,
and she's not going to stay to be made a fool of any longer."

Roberts, getting to his feet: "Do you think so? What makes you think
so? Would you go and speak to her?"

Campbell: "I