ers
for the admiration and astonishment of the Lombards, I think I might be
excused for not noticing that Mary forgot the salad. She forgot it as
completely as if salad had never dawned upon the culinary horizon. The
cook, not having made it, naturally dismissed it from _her_ mind, but
_Mary_ had helped me make it. _Mary_ put it in the ice-box with her
own hands. _Mary_ knew how I had worked over it. Drat her!

When all was over, the Angel strolled over to me and murmured:

"I thought you were making that salad for luncheon, dear."

I sprang from my chair as if shot, and stared at him wildly. He
regarded me with alarm.

"So I _was_!" I shrieked, in a whisper. I wrung my hands, and so great
was my anguish that tears came into my eyes.

"There! There, dearie!" said Aubrey, kindly. "Don't mind, little
girl! It would have been too much with all the rest of your lovely
luncheon. It will go _much_ better tonight."

"You are an angel," I said, brokenly, "but I'll feel a little easier in
my mind after I have killed Mary."

It was hot, but I ran all the way to the house. I found Mary. The
light of battle was in my eye, and she quailed before I spoke.

"Where was that lobster salad?" I demanded.

She turned pale, and sank into a chair. I simply stood glaring at her.
She peeked through her fingers to see if I were relenting as usual, but
as I still looked blood-thirsty, she began to cry. She covered her
head with her apron, and rocked herself back and forth.

"I forgot it, Missis dear! Kick me if you want to. I'll not say I
don't deserve it, but since I burst me stomach I can't remember
anything!"

"Since you _what_?" I gasped, in horror.

Mary took down her apron in triumph, and looked as important as though
she had a funeral to go to.

"Didn't you know, Missis? In my mother's last sickness--God rest her
soul!--I had to lift her every day, and I burst me stomach. The doctor
said so. That's why I forget things!"

I stood staring at her. She was nodding her head, and smoothing her
apron over her knees with a look of the greatest complacency.

I thought of many, many things to say. And in several languages. But
all of them put together would have been inadequate, so, without one
word, I turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully away.

That did not phase Mary in the least. She had looked for voluble and
valuable sympathy--such as generally pours from me on the slightest
provocation. She w