ir of Mrs. Brown's cook and own maid, who no sooner had a
notable girl made to their hands, than Missus was sure to find a good
place for her and send her off, taking in fresh importations from the
school. Another was, that the house was always full of young girls, with
clean shining faces; who broke plates and scorched linen, but made an
atmosphere of cheerful homely life about the place, good for every one
who came within its influence. Mrs. Brown loved young people, and in
fact human creatures in general, above plates and linen. They were more
like a lot of elder children than servants, and felt to her more as a
mother or aunt than as a mistress.

Tom's nurse was one who took in her instruction very slowly,--she
seemed to have two left hands and no head; and so Mrs. Brown kept her on
longer than usual, that she might expend her awkwardness and
forgetfulness upon those who would not judge and punish her too strictly
for them.

Charity Lamb was her name. It had been the immemorial habit of the
village, to christen children either by Bible names, or by those of the
cardinal and other virtues; so that one was for ever hearing in the
village street, or on the green, shrill sounds of, "Prudence! Prudence!
thee cum' out o' the gutter;" or, "Mercy! d'rat the girl, what bist thee
a doin' wi' little Faith?" and there were Ruths, Rachels, Keziahs, in
every corner. The same with the boys; they were Benjamins, Jacobs,
Noahs, Enochs. I suppose the custom has come down from Puritan
times--there it is at any rate, very strong still in the Vale.

Well, from early morn till dewy eve, when she had it out of him in the
cold tub before putting him to bed, Charity and Tom were pitted against
one another. Physical power was as yet on the side of Charity, but she
hadn't a chance with him wherever head-work was wanted. This war of
independence began every morning before breakfast, when Charity escorted
her charge to a neighbouring farm-house which supplied the Browns, and
where, by his mother's wish, Master Tom went to drink whey, before
breakfast. Tom had no sort of objection to whey, but he had a decided
liking for curds, which were forbidden as unwholesome, and there was
seldom a morning that he did not manage to secure a handful of hard
curds, in defiance of Charity and of the farmer's wife. The latter good
soul was a gaunt angular woman, who with an old black bonnet on the top
of her head; the strings dangling about her shoulders, and