"I don't remember them all, only she did not know the latitude and longitude of San Francisco, nor the year of her reign in which Queen Elizabeth died; only she said she thought it was the last. Her father laughed, I remember, but Mr. Ferrand said he could see nothing to laugh at in such ignorance." Rhoda laughed too when she was alone, but she could not help feeling uneasy. Mr. Ferrand was a coming event which seemed to cast a very cool shadow before, and she wondered whether she would suit him. Mr. Ferrand arrived at six, and Rhoda took a good look at him as she carried in the tea. He was a rather small man with iron-gray hair, greenish-gray eyes, and lips that looked, Rhoda thought, as if he were always saying "cabbage." Isa was looking more scared and awkward, and her mother more uneasy, than usual. Rhoda felt herself scrutinized in her turn; and feeling a perverse inclination to laugh in the great man's face, she set down her teapot and hastily retreated. "Who is that young person?" asked Mr. Ferrand as the door closed behind Rhoda. "She came from 'The Home' to me," answered his wife. "Mrs. Mulford recommended her, and she is really an excellent girl. With a little showing, she can cook a nice dinner." "I do not approve of showing, as you call it," said Mr. Ferrand. "A good housekeeper does not show; she gives directions, and has them obeyed. Is this young person an orphan—one of the beneficiaries of the institution?" Mrs. Ferrand related Rhoda's history as she had heard it from Mrs. Mulford. Mr. Ferrand listened and shook his head. "I don't like that," said he. "The girl must have misbehaved in some way, or she would not have been so summarily turned off." "Do you think it is always people's own fault if they are ill-treated, pa?" asked Isa. "If you will put that question into a grammatical and intelligible form, Isabella, I may perhaps answer it," was the reply. Isa relapsed into sulky silence, and did not speak again during the meal. Her father made perpetual comments on her manner of eating, drinking, and sitting, and the quantity of bread and milk she consumed—she was not to be allowed tea or butter—and checked her as she was taking a piece of sponge cake. "No more, my daughter. You have already eaten heartily, and it is far better to rise from the table with appetite. I have been hearing some admirable lectures on dietetics for young people," he continued, addressing his wife and passing his cup for the third time. "I think it would be a good plan to let Isabella have oatmeal porridge for breakfast and supper." "Pa, I can't bear it," said poor Isa, just ready to cry at the idea. "You will learn to bear it, Isabella," was the calm reply. "I shall procure a supply to-morrow." CHAPTER X. _SYSTEM._