“It aint as I’m not happy,” cried Lizzie, melting into tears. “Oh, miss, don’t you go and be vexed. It’s all along of what Miss Parsons says. She says in the kitchen as how she’s going to be married, and all the dresses you gives her, and all the presents, and takes her about wherever you go. Oh, miss, when Miss Parsons is married, won’t you try me? I’ll serve you night and day--I will. I don’t mind sitting up nights--not till daylight--and I’d never ask for holidays, nor followers, nor nothing. You’d have a faithful servant, though I says it as shouldn’t,” said Lizzie, with her apron at her eyes; “and mother’s prayers, and a blessin’ from the Lord--oh, miss, if you’d try me!” “Try you in place of Parsons!” cried Kate, in consternation. “Why, Lizzie, are you mad? Can you make dresses, you foolish girl, and dress hair, and do all sorts of things, like Parsons? You are only Mrs Mitford’s housemaid. Do you mean to tell me you can do all that too?” “I could try, miss,” said Lizzie, somewhat frightened, drying her eyes. “Try!--to make me a dress!” cried Kate, her eyes dancing with fun and comic horror. “But, Lizzie, I will try and find a place for you as housemaid, if you like.” “I don’t care for that, miss,” said Lizzie, disconsolately; “what I want is to better myself. And I know I could, if I were to try. When I’ve tried hard at anything, I’ve allays done it. And, please, I don’t know what Miss Parsons is, as she should be thought that much of--I could do it if I was to try.” “Then you had better try, I think,” said Kate, with severe politeness, “and let me know when you have succeeded; but in the mean time I will take my gloves, which you are spoiling. I have no more time to talk just now.”