"Will you let me tell you what to do," cried Missy, eagerly, twisting her fingers together as she spoke. "Gladly," he returned, looking down at her. "Turn away every servant in your house." He looked blank and dismayed. "They are as bad a lot as ever were brought together," she said. "They are neither honest nor truthful, nor in any sense respectable. There is not one of them that is worth trying to reform. I don't wonder you are dismayed at the thought of change. Men do not know anything about such things, naturally; take my word for it, you cannot keep them without danger to your property, let alone your children." "Are they worse than servants generally?" he said, helplessly. "I thought they were always dishonest; mine have always been ever since I have had a household." "And we," said Missy, "have never had a dishonest servant in our house a week." "You have been very fortunate then." "No," she said; "only we have had common prudence, and have looked after them a little." "Well," said Mr. Andrews, drawing a deep breath, "if I knew how to go to work, I would get rid of them all. But I don't really know anything about these matters." "If it were in your business, you would know how to get rid of a dishonest clerk, I suppose." "Oh, yes, that is a different matter. I could easily deal with the men in this case. But the women--well, really, you see it is uncomfortable. And I don't know how to get rid of them, or where to get any better if I do." "Oh, that could be easily managed." "Could it?" he said, earnestly. "Believe me, I would do anything to--to--render the fate of my children less unfortunate." There was a touch of feeling in his voice that softened Missy. "I wish you would be resolute about this then, and make the change at once. I could--mamma could tell you, perhaps, of good servants, and how to manage. Believe me, it isn't so hard sending off servants and getting new ones. I wish you were as angry with these as I am. You would not find it hard." Mr. Andrews smiled a little, but it was faintly, and he looked perplexed. "If I only knew what to do," he said again. "If you will tell me the way, I will walk in it." "Well, in the first place," said Missy, nothing loth, "I would take the horses at once and drive over to Eel Creek, where I understand the picnic party are, and capture the children--they may not get home till midnight, for you see the wind is against them, and these men know nothing about sailing. No doubt they meant to be home long before this time, starting so early, but they are not in sight. I have been watching for them. Then bring the children to our house; we will take care of them till matters are settled. Then, you know, when the servants get home, after being detected in such a scrape as this, they can expect nothing but to be dismissed. I am sure they would be much surprised at any other ending of the adventure, and they will take it very quietly."