'Well, as it is not your fault I need not speak to you--but please be so kind as to call Thomas, I only want him for a moment.' The celebrated Mrs. Phillips heaved a sigh, pregnant with bread, butter, cold meat and ale; and slid out of the room, crunching her way down stairs. I peeped at my sister--she looked pale and very anxiously perplexed, I pinched myself and kept silent. In a few minutes a voice was heard singing up the back stairs and--enter Sabina spread out with starch and heavily pomaded hair. 'Mrs. Phillips sent me to tell you marm that she had to make her gruel and the fire was low--and that Thomas had gone home.' 'Why, what time is it, Sabina?' '_Eight_ o'clock,' I enunciate distinctly. For one moment Mary's eyes lit up with something like heroism, but before she could frame a sentence, the playful want of interest exhibited by Sabina, who leaned against the mantel-piece, straightening her cuffs, did the business, and she collapsed. 'Please tell Thomas, when he comes to-morrow, Sabina, I would rather not have him go home quite as early, because you see,' (oh how I mentally groaned at this humiliating nonsense,) 'I might want him. You won't forget, will you, Sabina?' 'No, marm. Is there anything else?' Having now made herself prim, and taken a quiet survey of the library and viewed me carefully, she was now desirous of retiring. 'One moment, Sabina,' said Mary, beginning to realize her false position before me, 'Who is down stairs?' 'Well, I couldn't tell you, marm.' 'Why not?' 'There are so many.' 'How, do you mean so many?' 'Why, marm, it's the cook's birthday; and she thought you would'nt mind her having a few friends, so she invited her _cousins_,' (looking at me as though she would ask, 'what have you got to say to that, Mr. Man?') 'Well, Sabina,' said Mary, coloring up in confusion, 'just sign your name to this--it is only as a witness.' 'I cannot write, marm,' answered dandy Amazon, very short at being exposed. 'Then send Elizabeth here.' 'She is out too, marm.' 'What? Elizabeth has gone out?' 'Yes marm, you see,' (becoming confidential,) 'the cook and her has quarrelled like--she neglected to ask her to her little party till late this evening, and so she got huffy and put on her things and dashed out of the house,' (at this time I had either an attack of the ague or was laughing so hard internally that it leaked through.) 'Is Dinah in?' 'Yes marm.' 'Ask her, please, to come here.' Sabina tripped off with a satisfied air, and five--ten--fifteen minutes elapsed and no Ellen. I took out my memorandum and quickly wrote down a few valuable plans on the coming campaign. The clock struck half past eight, and my sister opened the entry door and listened--the kitchen door soon shut and somebody came up stairs slowly, with a waiter full of something. 'Is that you, Dinah?' 'Yes marm.' 'Why didn't you come before?' 'I don't know, mum.' 'Didn't Sabina tell you I wanted you?'