on, she had a wonderful power
over her stout employer, the power of a strong mind over a weak one, and
in spite of her youth it was well known that Rhoda managed the domestic
economy of the house. Mrs. Bensusan was the sovereign, Rhoda the prime
minister.

This position she had earned by dint of her own sharpness in dealing
with the world. And the local tradesmen were afraid of Rhoda. "Mrs.
Bensusan's devil," they called her, and never dared to give short
weight, or charge extra prices, or pass off damaged goods as new, when
Rhoda was the purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey Street was
supplied with everything of the best, promptly and civilly, at ordinary
market rates; for neither butcher, nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was
daring enough to risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a prairie fire over
their shortcomings. Several landladies, knowing Rhoda's value, had tried
to entice her from Mrs. Bensusan by offers of higher wages and better
quarters, but the girl refused to leave her stout mistress, and so
continued quite a fixture of the lodgings. Even in the city, Rhoda had
been spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey Street, and so had more
than a local reputation for originality.

This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her mistress was stout. Her hair
was magnificent in quality and quantity, but, alas! was of the unpopular
tint called red; not auburn, or copper hued, or the famous Titian color,
but a blazing, fiery red, which made it look like a comic wig. Her face
was pale and freckled, her eyes black--in strange contrast to her hair,
and her mouth large, but garnished with an excellent set of white teeth.

Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not having arrived at the age
of coquetry, for she wore a dingy grey dress much too short for her, a
pair of carpet slippers which had been left by a departed lodger, and
usually went about with her sleeves tucked up, and a resolute look on
her sharp face. Such was the appearance of Mrs. Bensusan's devil, who
entered to forbid her mistress confiding in Lucian.

"Oh, Rhoda!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "You bad gal! I believe as you've
'ad your ear to the keyhole."

"I 'ave!" retorted Rhoda defiantly. "It's been there for five minutes,
and good it is for you, mum, as I ain't above listening. What do you
mean, sir," she cried, turning on Lucian like a fierce sparrow, "by
coming 'ere to frighten two lone females, and her as innocent as a
spring chicken?"

"Oh!" said L