om Henry.

'Yes, and large mutton chops, rich in fat----'

'Dearest, how splendid,' whispered Henry. Our lips met in ecstacy.

That evening was one of the happiest we have ever spent. Henry and I
sat together on the divan and looked at the cookery-book. There was no
doubt about it. Henry said, that Mrs. Beeton was a wonderful woman.
We felt that she and Mr. Beeton must have been tremendously happy in
their married life.

[Illustration: Henry and I looked at the Cookery Book.]

The illustrations to the book delighted us, too, with their bold
outlines, vigorous colouring, and, attention to detail. Henry and I
rather favour the impressionist school in art, but when you're admiring
a picture of salmon mayonnaise it refreshes you to distinguish the
ingredients.

Elizabeth arrived the next day, bringing with her a small--perplexingly
small--brown paper parcel. The rest of her luggage, she said, was on
the way. It remained on the way so long that I finally got uneasy and
began to question her about it. She did not seem so disturbed at the
prospect of its being lost as I did. At last, when I declared my
intention of writing Carter Paterson's about it on her behalf, she
confessed. Frankness is one of her distinguishing qualities.

'My box is still at my friend's,' she explained. 'You see, when I goes
to a new place I never 'ave my luggage sent on until I feel I'm going
to settle. It saves a lot o' bother--if I don't stop.'

'I hadn't thought of that,' I commented feebly.

'I brought a clean cap and another pair o' stockings with me, so I'm
all right for a fortnight,' she went on. Her creed, like her change of
underclothing, was obviously simple. Mournfully I withdrew from the
kitchen to meditate.

So we were on probation. It was a tremulous time. I bade Henry tread
softly and not to forget to rub his feet on the mat. I gave all my
orders to Elizabeth in a voice which blended deference with
supplication. I strove hard to live up to what I thought must be her
conception of the Perfect Mistress. And when, the fortnight expired,
Carter Paterson drove up and deposited a small corded box on the hall
mat, I felt it to be a personal triumph. But Henry said I had nothing
to do with it. To this day he declares that Elizabeth decided to stop
because she so earnestly desired to serve such a gentle master.

CHAPTER III

No doubt you will have guessed that Henry is a better and sounder
writer than I.