experience," said Rushmere. "It don't want a person to be able to read an' write, to brew good ale an' make sweet butter, an' bake light bread; but it do want practical knowledge o' such work, as Dorothy here can tell you. She be a first rate housekeeper."

"You need not refer me to Dorothy Chance, Mr. Rushmere, while my own mother is present. She always was considered a capital manager."

"I dessay, I dessay," quoth Rushmere, nodding pleasantly towards the lady in question. "Mrs. Rowly looks like a woman well acquainted with work, an' it would be strange if you could not manage the house an' dairy between you."

"I think, Mr. Rushmere, there will be no occasion to employ so many hands in the kitchen," said Mrs. Rowly, glancing significantly at Dorothy. "Surely my daughter and Martha, with the assistance I can give them, ought to be sufficient."

"Certainly, certainly," cried old Rushmere, "those be exactly my sentiments, ma'am. Too many cooks spoil the broth. Polly goes, when her month expires, to Mrs. Sly's; an' Dorothy, when my dear old wife——" The farmer stopped short. He could not finish the sentence.

"Cannot I nurse Mrs. Rushmere?" said Mrs. Rowly. "I have had a great deal of experience in that way."

"No doubt you could," said Rushmere. "Howsomever she won't suffer any one to help her but Dorothy."

"I shall leave you, father, the moment my services are no longer required," said Dorothy. "I have a good home and kind friends to go to. It is only on dear mother's account that I have remained so long. I shall gladly resign to Mrs. Gilbert my place in the house."

The next morning, on going into the kitchen, Dorothy found Mrs. Gilbert and her mother up to their eyes in business, examining the contents of cupboards and pantries, and making a great litter and confusion everywhere.

She was told when she offered her assistance in restoring the place to order, that her services were not required by Mrs. Gilbert, whom she must now consider as mistress of the house, that she must not presume to interfere with Martha Wood and her work, but confine herself entirely to Mrs. Rushmere's chamber.

And Mrs. Gilbert commenced her reign over Heath Farm, by treating Dorothy and Polly as creatures beneath her notice, and decidedly in the way, while she encouraged Martha in her mischievous tattling, until she set Polly and her by the ears together.

Old Rushmere grumbled over the badly cooked dinners, the heavy bread and sour butter, and blamed Dorothy for what certainly she could not help.

One morning Dorothy went down into the kitchen to prepare a little broth for the poor invalid. The fire was out, and everything in the greatest confusion. A greasy unwashed floor and dirty towels, and dusters scattered around on tables and chairs. It was impossible to get the least thing done without worry and difficulty.

"Polly," she said very gently, "while you remain here you should do your duty to your employers. Why is your kitchen so dirty, and your fire always out, when I want to cook broth or gruel for your poor sick mistress? Things should not be in this disgraceful condition, and you have Martha to help you."

"Martha help me. Lauk, Miss Dorothy, she be no help to a body, she make all the dirt and muddle she can. She do take my nice white dish keeler to wash her missus' dirty dawg. I can't prevent her. I says to her only yesterday, if a' do that agen, I'll tell Miss Dorothy. 'Go to the devil,' says she, 'with yer. Miss Dorothy she be no missus o' mine. Mrs. Gilbert's missus here now. I'd like to hear Doll Chance dare to set me to work.' My heart's a breakin' wi' her dirty ways and her saucy impertinence. I'm right glad I'm going to-morrow; the old house a'nt like it wor."

"But this don't excuse you, Polly, for letting the fire out."

"Mrs. Gilbert told me hersel to let the fire go down directly the breakfus wor over. 'Miss Dorothy wull want it,' says I, 'to make the old missus her broth.' 'Let her want,' says she, 'or make it hersel. I don't mean to attend to her wants, I can tell you.'"

"Alas, alas!" sighed Dorothy, "what a house of misrule. Poor old father, how will it be with him by and bye, when they begin to abuse their power so early?"

Like the sailors, she saw breakers ahead, but had no power to steer the vessel off the rocks.

"Missus Gilbert," continued Polly, glad of getting some one to whom she could tell her griefs, "is allers jawing me, for not doing the work. But while her fat lazy girl sits doing naught, but towzleing the dawg, I'm not a' goin to kill mysel wi' work."

"Bear it patiently for a few hours, Polly. You will soon be free now. Run, there's a good girl to the woodstack, and bring some sticks to rekindle the fire."

In a few minutes, Polly rushed back to the kitchen, and flung an arm full of sticks down with a bang upon the hearth that could be heard all over the house, and holding up her hands cried out at the top of her voice. "A's been an' gone an' done it. I knew a' wud, directly a' got a chance."

"Done what?" demanded Dorothy, her cheeks blanching with terror.

"Ow'r Pincher ha' chawed up yon lump o' white wool."

"Killed Mrs. Gilbert's little poodle?"

"Ah, as dead as a door nail."

"I am sorry for it, very sorry. She will make an awful fuss about it, Polly. Did you see Pincher do it?"

"No, but Martha says a' did it. She oughter to know. See, she be coming in, crying an' roaring as if it wor a dead child."

Martha ran into the kitchen carrying the dead dog in her arms, screaming and shouting in a state of great excitement.

"Oh the precious Jewel? the darling pet! What will my mistress say? How shall I tell her? Oh, oh, oh."

Hearing from the next room the outcries of her servant, Mrs. Gilbert hurried in and demanded what all the noise was about.

"Oh, ma'am, just look here at your beautiful dog," sobbed Martha, holding up the little creature, from whose throat the blood was dripping all over the floor.

"Who has dared to ill use my dog?" cried Sophy Rushmere, not yet aware he was dead, and she turned and glared at Polly with the ferocity of a tigress.

"Oh, he is dead!" screamed Martha, "stone dead."

"Who killed him?"

"The horrid brute Pincher."

"Call Mr. Gilbert to shoot the monster."

"A' can't do it, ma'am," said Polly, very innocently. "A' ha' got but one arm."

"Hold your tongue you impudent jade. I have no doubt you set the other dog to worry him." Mrs. Gilbert took the dead dog in her arms and cried aloud.

Dorothy went up to her, and very kindly offered to examine the little animal, and ascertain whether he was really dead.

"Don't touch him!" screamed Sophy, pushing her rudely away. "I dare say you are glad of his death, and know more about it than you choose to say."

Dorothy drew back with an air of disgust. "I can excuse your grief and annoyance at the death of the poor dog, who was a pretty harmless little creature, but not your insulting those who never injured him. Perhaps if it were a fellow-creature, you would not feel the least distress about it."

"Martha," said Mrs. Gilbert, paying no heed to her, "go and call your master. I will be revenged on that ferocious beast. If he refuses to kill him, I will kill him myself."

Dorothy became suddenly aware of the danger that threatened her old favourite.

"Good heavens!" she thought, "this cruel woman will never execute her threat. Gilbert will