“Cook, if you don't go back to your kitchen instantly, I'll give you notice. It is shameful--think what a scandal you are making in the stable-yard. Go back to your kitchen--I order you. It is half-past six, go and attend to your master's dinner.” “He has insulted me, he has insulted me. I'll have your blood!” she cried, battering at the door. The rattling of chains was heard as the horses turned their heads. “Put those boots under your apron, cook; go back to your kitchen, do as I tell you.” The woman retreated, Maggie following. At intervals there were stoppages, and cook re-stated her desire to have the coachman's blood. Maggie did not attempt to argue with her, but sternly repeated her order to go back to her kitchen, and to conceal the old boots under her apron. “What business had he to rummage in my box, interfering with my things; he put them all along the kitchen table; he did it because I told you, miss, that he was carrying on with the kitchenmaid. He goes with her every evening into the wood shed, and a married man, too! I wouldn't be his poor wife.” “Go back to your kitchen, cook; do as I tell you.” With muttered threats cook entered the house, and commanded the kitchenmaid to interfere no more with the oven, but to attend to her saucepans. “What a violent woman,” thought Maggie, “horrid woman. I am sure she's Irish. I'll get rid of her as soon as I can. The place is filthy, but I daren't speak to her now. She's stirring the saucepan with her finger.” At that moment quick steps were heard coming down the corridor, and Sally entered. “Cook, cook, I want you to put back the dinner half an hour. I have to go down the town.” “O Sally, I beg of you, what will father say?” “Father isn't everybody. I daresay the train will be a little late; it often is. He won't know anything about it, that is if you don't tell him.” “What do you want to go down the town for?” “Never you mind. I don't ask you what you do.” “You want to go down the slonk,” whispered Maggie. The cook stopped stirring the saucepan, and the kitchenmaid stood listening greedily. “Nothing of the kind,” Sally answered defiantly. “You're always trying to get up something against me. Cook, will you keep back the dinner twenty minutes?” “Cook, I forbid you. I'm mistress here.” “How dare you insult me before the servants! Grace is mistress here, if it comes to that.” “Grace has given me over the housekeeping. I am mistress when she is too unwell to attend to it.” “Nothing of the sort. Grace is the eldest, I would give way to her, but I'm not going to give way to you. Cook, the dinner won't be ready for another half hour, will it?” “I don't know when the dinner will be ready, and I don't care.” “It is a quarter to seven now, dinner won't be ready before seven, will it, cook? Keep it back a bit. Now I must be off.”