_Mrs. T._ Get one here, indeed! not a bit of it. Beside, nothing will do but one all the way from New York. _Tom._ Well, well! I’ll see about it. _Mrs. T._ Well, let it be here on Thursday, for my _sorry_――that’s a good man! Here the conversation ended, and, on the appointed day, a huge tub, set on wheels, and painted green, was brought from New York, and trundled into the front entry of the Trudges. The tub contained a splendid group of _peonies_, in full bloom. “What _have_ you got there?” said Mrs. Trudge to her husband, who was standing by. “Why, the _pianny_, to be sure,” says Tom. “The pianny!” said his wife, throwing up her hands; “the pianny! What a ridiculous blunder! Oh, Tom, Tom, you’ll break my heart! You’ve no more hedication than a heath-hen. I axed you to get me a pianny, and you have got me a pianny.” Here Mrs. Trudge sobbed aloud, and it was a long time before poor Mr. Trudge could be made to understand the mistake he had made. He was at last compelled to order the piano, even though it cost four hundred dollars, and he considered the peace with his wife, which he thus purchased, to have been cheaply obtained. Another vexation which Mrs. Trudge experienced, arose from her servants. Sometimes she was familiar, sometimes imperious and tyrannical. She therefore secured neither the respect nor affection of those around her. She was accordingly accustomed to indulge in the fashionable outcry against her “_help_.” An incident which throws some light upon this topic, it may be worth while to relate. Mrs. Million had recently introduced bells into her house, and Bridget followed suit. The servants conceived a dislike to being thus summoned into the presence of their mistress. It struck them not only as an innovation, but as a rude and harsh mode of calling them. Mrs. Trudge’s manner was not calculated to allay this aversion, for while the bells were being put up, she seemed to assume a loftier tone than usual. When they were at last arranged, she attired herself in a splendid satin dress, took a bottle of hartshorn, reclined luxuriously upon a sofa, and then pulled the bell-rope, which was near. She waited a little, but no one came at the summons. She pulled again, but there was no answer. At last, she gave the cord an imperious twitch, which nearly sundered the wires. In a few seconds, the chambermaid popped her head in at the door, and said spitefully to her mistress, “You may pull and pull till you are gray, Miss Trudge; the more you ring, the more I won’t come.”