ntion to a splendid bouquet
of flowers in a glass on the same table, mentioned that Miss Keeldar had
sent them that morning from Fieldhead; and went on to comment on the
guests that lady was at present entertaining, on the bustling life she
had lately been leading; adding divers conjectures that she did not very
well like it, and much wonderment that a person who was so fond of her
own way as the heiress did not find some means of sooner getting rid of
this _cortege_ of relatives.

"But they say she actually will not let Mr. Sympson and his family go,"
she added. "They wanted much to return to the south last week, to be
ready for the reception of the only son, who is expected home from a
tour. She insists that her cousin Henry shall come and join his friends
here in Yorkshire. I dare say she partly does it to oblige Robert and
myself."

"How to oblige Robert and you?" inquired Caroline.

"Why, my child, you are dull. Don't you know--you must often have
heard----"

"Please, ma'am," said Sarah, opening the door, "the preserves that you
told me to boil in treacle--the congfiters, as you call them--is all
burnt to the pan."

"Les confitures! Elles sont brulees? Ah, quelle negligence coupable!
Coquine de cuisiniere, fille insupportable!"

And mademoiselle, hastily taking from a drawer a large linen apron, and
tying it over her black apron, rushed _eperdue_ into the kitchen,
whence, to speak truth, exhaled an odour of calcined sweets rather
strong than savoury.

The mistress and maid had been in full feud the whole day, on the
subject of preserving certain black cherries, hard as marbles, sour as
sloes. Sarah held that sugar was the only orthodox condiment to be used
in that process; mademoiselle maintained--and proved it by the practice
and experience of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother--that
treacle, "melasse," was infinitely preferable. She had committed an
imprudence in leaving Sarah in charge of the preserving-pan, for her
want of sympathy in the nature of its contents had induced a degree of
carelessness in watching their confection, whereof the result was--dark
and cindery ruin. Hubbub followed; high upbraiding, and sobs rather loud
than deep or real.

Caroline, once more turning to the little mirror, was shading her
ringlets from her cheek to smooth them under her cottage bonnet, certain
that it would not only be useless but unpleasant to stay longer, when,
on the sudden opening of the back-do