riever, named Carlo.

"One or two domestics did the housework, and helped the farm-hands in
haying, harvest, and potato-digging; and over all presided Mrs. Sims, a
tall, stout, and resolute widow, with a heavy hand and a shrewish
temper. With a huge bunch of keys at her side, and an eye quick to
detect the smallest waste and the slightest irregularity, she kept the
household in terror, and her master (poor little man!) in almost abject
vassalage. A specimen of one of their daily breakfast dialogues may be
worthy of reproduction.

"_She._ 'Good mornin,' sir. 'Ope you're well this morning.'

"_He._ 'Yes--quite well. Breakfast ready, eh?'

"_She._ 'Almost. Heggs just boiling when I came in. That Gillbear
(Gilbert, a little, French orphan) sucks heggs, hi'm sure. Hi wonder you
keep 'im hon the place.'

"_He._ 'Well, you know, Mrs. Sims, he's an orphan, and--'

"_She._ 'Well, hi like that. Han horphan! hand 'is father lives hup hin
has good a farm has there his hin Tracadie.'

"_He._ 'Well, his father Gilbert died, and Lisette, his mother, married
Francois: and then Lisette, his mother, died, and Francois married his
cousin Christine; and then Francois died, and Christine married Jacques
the blacksmith; and so he hasn't any father or mother, and no home, and
I let him stay here.'

"_She._ 'Yes, hand you'd 'ave the place heaten hup with lazy, dirty,
thieving beggars hif hit wasn't for me. Hi told your brother when 'e
sent me hover. Says 'e, 'My brother his too heasy, han' needs some un to
see that 'e hisn't himposed hupon.' Says hi, 'Wen hi'm hunable to do my
duty, hi've honly to return 'ome to Hingland. Wich hi've just 'ad a
letter from my sister; han' hif hi must slave for sich, hi'd rather give
warnin' for to-morrow come four weeks.'

"_He_ (nervously). 'Why, my dear Mrs. Sims--'

"_She._ 'Yes, sir; hand that dratted dog Carlo, hevery mornin', when hi
goes to hair your sheets, gives me ha start with growlin' hat me from
hunder the bed-clothes, wich 'e wraps 'isself hup hin hevery mornin',
sir, like has hif 'e were a Christian. Now, sir, hi'm ready to slave
hand wear myself hout for you, but has for slavin' for a dirty cur and a
French brat, hi've no need to, han' hi won't.'

_He._ 'Well, well, Mrs. Sims, we'll see what can be done--what can be
done. I'll get a chain for Gilbert, and send the dog away. No, I mean
I'll--No, I'll--Confound it, madam, let's have breakfast.'

"On the same afternoon Mr. Grahame, th