During the afternoon, my "butter man" came. Occasionally he brings some very nice country sausages, and I always make it a point to secure a few pounds when he does so. He had some on this occasion. "Alice," said I, as I entered the kitchen about four o'clock, "I want you to hurry and get tea ready as quickly as you can." "Yes, mum," was the ready reply. "And Alice," I added, "we'll have some of these sausages with the tea. They are very fine ones--better than we usually get. Be sure to cook them very nice." "Yes, mum," promptly answered the girl, looking quite intelligent. A few more directions as to what we were to have were given, and then I went up to sit with my company. It was not my intention to leave all to the doubtful skill of my new cook, but, either the time passed very rapidly, or she was more prompt and active than is usual among cooks, for the tea bell rung before I was in expectation of hearing it. "Ah," said I, "there is our tea bell," and I arose, adding, "will you walk into the dining-room, ladies?" The words were no sooner uttered than a doubt as to all being as I could wish crossed my mind; and I regretted that I had not first repaired to the dining-room alone. But, as it was too late now, or, rather, I did not happen to have sufficient presence of mind to recall my invitation to the ladies to walk in to tea, until I had preceded them a few minutes. Well, we were presently seated at the tea table. My practised eye instantly saw that the cloth was laid crookedly, and that the dishes were placed in a slovenly manner. I couldn't help a passing apology, on the ground of a new domestic, and then proceeded to the business of pouring out the tea. The cups were handed around, and I soon noticed that my guests were sipping from their spoons in a very unsatisfactory manner. I was in the act of filling my own cup from the tea urn, when I missed the plate of sausages, about which I had boasted to my lady friends as something a little better than were usually to be obtained. So I rung the table bell. Alice presently made her appearance. "Alice," said I, "where are the sausages I told you to cook? You surely hav'nt forgotten them?" "Och, no indade, mum. They're there." "Where? I don't see them." And my eyes ran around the table. "They're wid the ta mum, sure!" "With the tea?" "Sure, mum, they're wid the ta. Ye towld me yees wanted the sausages wid the ta; and sure they're there. I biled 'em well." A light now flashed over my mind. Throwing up the lid of the tea urn, I thrust in a fork, which immediately came in contact with a hard substance. I drew it forth, and exhibited a single link of a well "biled" sausage. Let me draw a veil over what followed. CHAPTER XIV. NOT A RAG ON THEIR BACKS.