tal of delight, there stood, stout
as Britannia herself, and sweeping a long knife for her trident, the
valiant cook, to protect her cauliflowers. "You be off, Bill," she
cried. "I don't want to hurt you, because you have been a good bird in
your time, but now you be growing outrageous." Bill made a rush for it,
but losing a slice of his top-heavy comb, retired.

"Now's my opportunity," said Mary to herself, "for to cut my own cabbage
for once in my life, and to see what that old beast does in here. Oh my!
The old villain, and robber that he is! Bamboozlement is the language
for it." Embezzlement she should have said, and to one who knew as she
did how badly the table of the master was supplied, the suspicion was
almost unavoidable. For here she saw in plenteous show, and appetising
excellence, a many many of the very things she had vainly craved from
Mr. Swipes. And if it was so now in November, what must it have been two
months ago? Why, poor Miss Faith--Mary Knuckledown's idol, because of
her kindness and sad disappointment--had asked a little while ago for a
bit of salsify, not for herself--she never thought of herself--but for a
guest who was fond of it; also the Admiral himself had called out for a
good dish of skirrets. But no; Mr. Swipes said the weather and the black
blight had destroyed them. Yet here they were; Mary could swear to them
both, with their necks above-ground, as if waiting for the washing!
Cauliflowers also (as the cooks call broccoli of every kind), here they
were in abundance, ten long rows all across the middle square, very
beautiful to behold. Some were just curling in their crinkled coronets,
to conceal the young heart that was forming, as Miss in her teens draws
her tresses around the first peep of her own palpitation; others were
showing their broad candid bosoms, with bold sprigs of nature's green
lace crisping round; while others had their ripe breasts shielded from
the air by the breakage of their own broad fringe upon them.

Mary knew that this was done by Mr. Swipes himself, because he had
brought her some in that condition; but the unsuspicious master had
accepted his assurance that "they was only fit for pigs as soon as the
break-stalk blight come on 'em"; and then the next day he had bought
the very same, perhaps at ninepence apiece, from Mr. Cheeseman's window,
trimmed and shorn close, like the head of a monk. "I'll see every bit of
'un, now that I be here." Mrs. Knuckledown spoke