Am I lacking in moral courage? Could you have damped his ardour by word of mouth? He was so interested and friendly, so anxious to give the best advice. How could I tell him I wanted nothing but soft cream wash on the walls? and the only awful modern grate, that desecrated the whole house, pulled out? I didn’t even want a geyser, his idea of the acme of comfort, ’’ot bath of a Saturday night and no trouble.’ So I weakly said I would go home and think it over and would write and tell him what I had decided. Ross vanished into the village drapers on the way home and came out waving a pattern of ball fringe. ’’Ere yer are,’ he giggled, ’best quality seven three, what ’o for art in the ’ome.’ A radiant Gidger met us at the door. ’The first parcel’s come, muvver. Oh, Uncle Woss, do cut the string.’ ’String,’ said Ross, proceeding to try to untie every knot with his left hand, ’string is a very valuable thing, Gidg., and must on no account be wasted. Your cottage is only held up by the wallpaper, which your mother insists on having stripped off, so I expect we shall have to tie it up outside like a parcel.’ ’Oh, what a lubberly supwise, muvver.’ And, indeed, it was. Aunt Constance had sent us six pairs of real _old_ chintz curtains, enough for all my small windows, I should think. Such lovely soft colours: anemones and leaves on a cream ground, and a border that will make miles and miles of little frills for the top! I am now going to compose a suitable letter to ’Uncle John’ about the wallpapers. Oh, I nearly forgot to say that I have managed to get a cook after all, for ’Uncle John’ brought his eldest daughter along with him and suggested I should try her, and as she had an excellent written reference from her last employer, who is now nursing in France, I engaged her on the spot, and Nannie says it’s another modern miracle and no other woman ever had my luck! Then I am keeping on the old man, Tidmarsh, nicknamed the Titmouse, who has always come in for two days a week and done the garden. He can give me full time and knows of a garden boy who will also do the boots and knives and all the other jobs that modern servants won’t do. The boy’s name is _Tench_. Of course, Ross christened him ’the Stench’ at once. The registry office at Tarnley sent a girl up this evening as parlourmaid. She amused me very much by saying, ’I don’t consider myself an ordinary servant, I am very superior, and so is my family. I never go out, except to very special places, my mistresses have always been real ladies, they didn’t know how to do anything.’ I am afraid I cannot aspire to that standard of gentility, but have engaged her and hope I shan’t regret it. Then the charlady of these rooms said,— ’My ’Ilda wants a place, would she do as ’ousemaid though she is a bit rough and young like?’