ak
two full breakfast services it would leave her alone for a while. But
no; she was half-way through the third before her luck showed any signs
of changing.

Spilling the salt accounted for three burnt saucepans and the collapse
of the plate rack (at the moment fully charged); while seeing the new
moon through glass caused her to overlook the fact that she had left a
can in the middle of the staircase. Afterwards (during the week that I
waited on her on account of her sprained ankle) she said she would
never go near a window again until the moon was at full and quite safe.

Of course, I do my best to parry these mysterious blows of Fate. I
remember when she first undertook to clean the drawing-room I took away
everything that a mysterious agency might cause to 'come in two' in her
hands. I left her alone with the grand piano and scrubbing materials,
and went out to spend the afternoon with cheerful countenance. I
returned rather late, and directly Elizabeth opened the door to me I
saw that something was wrong.

'I've been unlucky,' she began.

'Unlucky!' I faltered. 'But what with? Don't say the piano came in
two in your hands?'

'It wasn't my 'ands, it was my feet. The floor gave way an' I went
through.'

'You went through the floor!' I marvelled. Then my face cleared. The
house was not mine, and, after all, the landlord has no right to escape
these unusual machinations of Fate.

'I knew somethink would 'appen when I put the boots on the table by
accident this mornin',' she explained, 'It's always a Bad Sign.'

You must not think, however, that Elizabeth ever allows her fatalism to
interfere with her judgment. I recall the occasion when she came to me
looking actually concerned and remarked: 'I'm sorry, 'm, but them two
varses that was on the mantelpiece in the pink bedroom----'

I started up. 'Don't dare to say you've been unlucky with them!'

'No'm, I wasn't unlucky. I was just careless when I broke those.'

A low moan escaped my lips. They were the Sevres vases that I loved
dearest of my possessions, and which, in the words of those who keep
shops, 'cannot be repeated.' I regarded Elizabeth angrily, no longer
able to control my wrath. I am at times (says Henry) a hasty woman. I
ought to have paused and put my love of Sevres vases in the balance
with the diet of scrambled eggs and the prospect of unlimited
washing-up, and I know which side would have tipped up at once.
However, I did n