Hannah was the cook of the establishment, and I must say an excellent cook she made. "Why, Hannah," I said, "I can't imagine how you manage to leave the kitchen just now." "Oh, I can manage," said Hannah. "I get as much help as I want." "And you are such a good cook, Hannah; you take to the new life as kindly as I do." "Much chance I have of not taking to it. It's do your work or go; that's the rule of rules in this house. If you are kept to cook, cook you must; if you don't cook, out you go, and some one else comes in who can cook. That's the way. Now, Miss Rachel, you've got to be made into a fashionable young lady, magnificently dressed, and educated in one of the 'orrid French schools." Hannah threw a world of contempt into the adjective she bestowed upon the Parisian school. "In one of them 'orrid French schools," she said; "and if you don't submit, why, out you goes too." "Why, Hannah, how could I go out? I often wish I could." "Poor child!" said Hannah. "Well, now--oh, my word! what are all those?" She had not noticed the parcels before. She now sprang on them and began to examine them. In spite of herself she was impressed by the goodly array of garments. "My word!" she said, "no one can accuse her of being stingy." "And no one can accuse her," I said with feeling, "of being mean in any sense of the word. She does her best for us all." "Well, she has her object," said Hannah. "A-pushing of _her_ out-- a-pushing of her out. She's a'most gone, poor thing! Killed she were, but still her spirit seems to linger; now she's a'most gone." "Hannah, when you talk like that I sometimes hate you," I said. Hannah looked at me in astonishment. "How queer you are, Dumps!" she said. "I don't know that I didn't like you twice as well in the old times, though you have plumped out like anything. You were a very plain little creature, I will say that. But there! handsome is that handsome does." "And did I behave so handsomely, Hannah? You were always finding fault with me then." "Drat you!" said Hannah, "you were a bit of a caution--you and them boys. Oh dear me! don't I remember the darkness in the old times? And now it's just a blaze of light--gas every where, big fires, big j'ints, poultry, game, fish. My word! and the sweets are enough to make your mouth water. And I has to superintend, and it's `Mrs Joyce' here and `Mrs Joyce' there. My word! My word!" "Do they call you Mrs Joyce?" "Of course they do. I wouldn't allow anything else. But there, child, I must be off. It's a'most time for us to sit down to our dinner; nothing less, I can assure you, than veal and ham pie, and apple-dumplings afterwards." "But, Hannah, you never were good at apple-dumplings, you know." "I am now. I have everything to make them with--that's what I have; and I had nothing afore. Oh, my word!" "Yes, Hannah, you used to feed us very badly. Do you remember that leg of mutton?" Hannah laughed.