By cook’s advice we decided to arrange the work as nearly as possible as she and Ann had worked. I, who had all my mornings free, was to be the cook, while Cecilly, who had her music lessons to give, called herself “house-parlour-maid.” Of course, we were always ready to help each other in every detail, and I feel sure that servants would find their work much lighter and pleasanter if only they would work together. The variety even would make it pleasanter, at least, so Cecilly and I found. It was rather an effort to turn out of bed at half-past six the first morning we were alone. I ran down in my dressing-gown and set light to the stove before I took my bath, so that when we were dressed the kettle was boiling, and we could have a cup of tea and some bread and butter before we began our duties. I stayed in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, while Cecilly went into the dining-room to sweep. I heard her making a great deal of noise, and when I was ready to help her, I could not help laughing at her preparations and efforts. She was scarlet and breathless with exertion, as she swept the carpet as if it were never to be swept again. She had moved every piece of furniture from its place that she could move, and would not believe that the heavy pieces were only moved out once a week on “turning out” days. I took the broom from her and sent her for wood to light the fire, for the mornings were still chilly. Then we found the wood was damp, but we quickly dried it in the oven of the gas stove, and _never_ afterwards did we forget to dry our wood directly we took it in. We were just ready to ring the breakfast-bell when from upstairs came such a shouting from the boys, mingled with Jack’s voice, angry and stern, that we both ran out to see what was wrong, and to our dismay found water pouring down the staircase into the hall. We at last learnt that Phil and Bob, who had their bath in their bedroom, had, in order to be helpful, tried to carry it to the bath-room to empty, the result being they had overturned it on the landing. They were so sorry, and had been acting from kindness, not mischief, that we stopped Jack’s scoldings, and very soon we had sopped up the worst of the damage. Jack, however, insisted on their getting up as soon as we were down, so they could take their bath in the bath-room before he was ready for his. Poor Jack! he did so hate our doing the work of the house, but Aunt Jane had taken him in hand and made him reasonable, and it was she who wrote to mother, telling her of our plan, and begging her to consent to our giving it a fair trial.