of my room, it never having come into my head that there
_could be_ a wrong way of making a bed; and to this day it is a marvel
to me how any one could arrange pillows and quilts to make such a
nondescript appearance as mine now presented. One glance showed me that
Kotterin also was "_just caught_," and that I had as much to do in her
department as in that of my old lady.

Just then the door bell rang. "O, there is the door bell," I exclaimed.
"Run, Kotterin, and show them into the parlor."

Kotterin started to run, as directed, and then stopped, and stood
looking round on all the doors and on me with a wofully puzzled air.
"The street door," said I, pointing towards the entry. Kotterin
blundered into the entry, and stood gazing with a look of stupid wonder
at the bell ringing without hands, while I went to the door and let in
the company before she could be fairly made to understand the connection
between the ringing and the phenomenon of admission.

As dinner time approached, I sent word into my kitchen to have it set
on; but, recollecting the state of the heads of department there, I soon
followed my own orders. I found the tin oven standing out in the middle
of the kitchen, and my cook seated _a la Turc_ in front of it,
contemplating the roast meat with full as puzzled an air as in the
morning. I once more explained the mystery of taking it off, and
assisted her to get it on to the platter, though somewhat cooled by
having been so long set out for inspection. I was standing holding the
spit in my hands, when Kotterin, who had heard the door bell ring, and
was determined this time to be in season, ran into the hall, and soon
returning, opened the kitchen door, and politely ushered in three or
four fashionable looking ladies, exclaiming, "Here she is." As these
were strangers from the city, who had come to make their first call,
this introduction was far from proving an eligible one--the look of
thunderstruck astonishment with which I greeted their first appearance,
as I stood brandishing the spit, and the terrified snuffling and staring
of poor Mrs. Tibbins, who again had recourse to her old pocket
handkerchief, almost entirely vanquished their gravity, and it was
evident that they were on the point of a broad laugh; so, recovering my
self-possession, I apologized, and led the way to the parlor.

Let these few incidents be a specimen of the four mortal weeks that I
spent with these "_helps_," during which time I d