say it lies in all these mountain streams," she
answered sullenly; "and I'm always dreaming of nuggets. Not that a girl
with my face and figure wants 'dust' to set her off, however. But if its
all the same to you, mem, I'd rather leave when Euphemia does."

"Are _you_ going, then?" I inquired, turning reproachfully to my
pale-faced cook, who actually coloured a little as she answered, "Well,
mem, you see Moffatt says he's got his window frames in now, and he'll
glass them the very first chance, and I think it'll be more company for
me on Saddler's Flat. So if you'll please to send me down in the dray, I
should be obliged."

Here was a pretty upset, and I went about my poultry-feeding with a
heavy heart. How was I to get fresh servants, and above all, what was
I to do for cooking during the week they were away? These questions
fortunately settled themselves in rather an unexpected manner. I heard
of a very nice willing girl who was particularly anxious to come up
as housemaid, to my part of the world, on condition that I should also
engage as cook her sister, who was leaving a place on the opposite side
of a range of high hills to the south. I shall only briefly say that
all inquiries about these damsels proved satisfactory, and I could see
Euphemia and Lois depart, with tolerable equanimity. The former wept,
and begged for a box of Cockles' pills; but Lois tossed her elfish head,
and gave me to understand that she had never been properly admired or
appreciated whilst in my service.

Chapter XII: Culinary troubles.

I want to lodge a formal complaint against all cookery books. They are
not the least use in the world, until you know how to cook! and then you
can do without them. Somebody ought to write a cookery book which would
tell an unhappy beginner whether the water in which she proposes to put
her potatoes is to be hot or cold; how long such water is to boil; how
she is to know whether the potatoes are done enough; how to dry
them after they have boiled, and similar things, which make all the
difference in the world.

To speak like Mr. Brooke for a moment. "Rice now: I have dabbled in that
a good deal myself, and found it wouldn't do at all."

Of course in time, and after many failures, I did learn to boil a
potato which would not disgrace me, and to bake bread, besides in time
attaining to puddings and cakes, of which I don't mind confessing I was
modestly proud. It used to be a study, I am told, to wa