at wasn't the most
hard-hearted would. But Miss Polly, she's all on wires like, and she
bounds in and she says that I pepper the soup too strong, and that I
ought to go to cookery schools, and ef I'll go with her that blessed
minit she'll tell me what I wants in my own store-room. There's limits.
Dr. Maybright, and Miss Polly's my limits; so, ef you'll have no
objection, sir, I'll go this day month."

"But I have an objection," replied Dr. Maybright. "Even Polly's
experiment must not cost me a valuable servant. Mrs. Power, I have
promised my little girl, and I feel more than convinced that her week's
trial will ensure to you the freedom you desire and deserve in the
future. Listen, I have a plan. Suppose you go for a week's holiday on
Monday?"

"Oh, my word, sir! And are you to be poisoned hout and hout?"

"That is unlikely. Maggie, your kitchen-maid, is fond of cooking, and
she won't quarrel with Miss Polly. Let us consider it arranged, then. A
week's holiday won't do you any harm, cook, and your expenses I will
defray. Now, excuse me, I must go out at once. The carriage has been at
the door for some time."

CHAPTER X.

INDIGESTION WEEK.

It was quite early on the following Monday morning when a light tap was
heard outside the door of the room where Helen and Polly slept. It was a
very light, modest, and uncertain tap, and it has not the smallest
effect upon Helen, who lay in soft slumber, her pretty eyes closed, her
gentle face calm and rounded and child-like, and the softest breathing
coming from her rosy, parted lips.

Another little girl, however, was not asleep. At that modest tap up
sprang a curly head, two dark, bright eyes opened wide, two white feet
sprang quickly but noiselessly on to the floor, and Polly had opened the
bedroom door wide to admit the short, dumpy, but excited little person
of Maggie, the kitchen-maid.

"She's a-going, Miss Polly--she's a-packing her bandbox now, and
putting the strap on. She's in a hawful temper, but she'll be out of the
house in less than half an hour. There's a beautiful fire in the
kitchen, Miss, and the pan for frying bacon is polished up so as you
could 'most see yourself in it. And the egg-saucepan is there all 'andy,
and the kettle fizzing and sputtering. I took cook up her breakfast, but
she said she didn't want none of our poisonous messes, and she'd
breakfast with her cousin in the village if we'd no objection. She'll be
gone in no time now, Miss