lf to do two men's work; drive a brougham and wait
on a horse, and then come in and wait at table, You are a tea-kettle
groom, that is what you are. Why, my brother was coachman to Lord
Fitz-James, and gave his lordship notice the first time he had to drive
the children. Says he, 'I don't object to the children, my lord, but
with her ladyship in the carriage.' It's such servants as you as spoil
places. No servant as knows what's due to a servant ought to know you.
They'd scorn your 'quaintance, as I do, Mr. Pearman."

"You are a stuck-up hussy, and a soldier's jade," roared Andrew.

"And you are a low tea-kettle groom."

This expression wounded the great equestrian soul to the quick; the rest
of Sunday he pondered on it; the next morning he drove the doctor, as
usual, but with a heavy heart.

Meantime, the cook made haste and told the baker Pearman had "got it
hot" from the housemaid, and she had called him a tea-kettle groom; and
in less than half an hour after that it was in every stable in the mews.
Why, as Pearman was taking the horse out of the brougham, didn't two
little red-headed urchins call out, "Here, come and see the tea-kettle
groom!" and at night some mischievous boy chalked on the black door of
the stable a large white tea-kettle, and next morning a drunken, idle
fellow, with a clay pipe in his mouth, and a dirty pair of corduroy
trousers, no coat, but a shirt very open at the chest, showing inflamed
skin, the effect of drink, inspected that work of art with blinking eyes
and vacillating toes, and said, "This comes of a chap doing too much.
A few more like you, and work would be scarce. A fine thing for
gentlefolks to make one man fill two places! but it ain't the
gentlefolks' fault, it's the man as humors 'em."

Pearman was a peaceable man, and made no reply, but went on with his
work; only during the day he told his master that he should be obliged
to him if he would fill his situation as soon as convenient.

The master inquired the cause, and the man told him, and said the mews
was too hot for him.

The doctor offered him five pounds a year more, knowing he had a
treasure; but Pearman said, with sadness and firmness, that he had made
up his mind to go, and go he would.

The doctor's heart fairly sank at the prospect of losing the one
creature he could depend upon.

Next Sunday evening Clara was out, and fell in with friends, to whom she
exaggerated her grievance.

Then they worked her up to