As Jane awkwardly spread the cloth, and rummaged in the drawers for the required silver, she heard Mrs. Belknap's distinct American voice in the kitchen: "--not a bit of good, I'm _awfully_ afraid, Jack,--afraid of doing anything, I could see that at a glance--Yes, one of those 'high-class servants.' _Pretty?_ No, I don't think so--not at all. I'm surprised at you, Jack! I fear she's only one more in the long list of failures. Oh, _dear_, I'd give anything for a real _good_ girl! It does seem----" Jane guiltily opened the door. "Did you say I should lay the table for four, ma'am?" she asked. "No, indeed; Buster will eat first, and he's almost starved, too, poor little darling! Yes, sweetheart, mother's hurrying. Jane, won't you take his bread and milk and this soft egg, and feed him at that little side table in the dining room? Or, no--" as the youngster vociferated his displeasure at this arrangement. "Do you want mother to feed you, darling? Carry him in the other room, please, Jack, and I'll come and feed him. Do you think you can broil this steak, Jane, and mash the potatoes?" "I'll try, ma'am," said Jane coldly; "but I don't know anything at all about cooking." "You don't? Why, how extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap suspiciously. "I should think you would know enough to broil a steak and mash potatoes, even if you have always been a parlor maid or a nursery governess. Do you think you can coax Buster to eat his supper?" "I'll try, ma'am," repeated Jane; "but of course I'm a stranger to--Master Buster." "Well, I think if you will try to look pleasant, and if you'll not be quite so _wooden_ in your manner that he'll not dislike you. He likes almost everybody. If Buster doesn't like you, you will be of very little use to _me_." Mrs. Belknap spoke in a tone of crisp decision which betrayed her rapidly growing conviction that Jane would not "do." Jane divined this, and it piqued her pride, already sorely wounded. She walked into the dining room, with her pretty head held very high indeed, to encounter Mr. John Everett's blue eyes fixed upon her with an expression of respectful sympathy. He had thoughtfully installed his small nephew in a tall highchair, and was awkwardly tying a bib about his neck. "I'm to feed Master Buster, if you please, sir," said Jane, with a severe tightening of her pretty lips. "All right," agreed Mr. Everett cheerfully. "Now Buster, if you'll be a good boy and eat your supper without howling for your mother, I'll go down to the grocery store and buy you some candy. Do you hear, young man?" "Yeth," assented the infant, fixing solemn, expectant eyes upon Jane. "Will you bwing her some, too?" Apparently Mr. Everett did not hear this question. "Now, mind, Buster," he said seriously, "no kicking, no howling for mother. Sit up; be a man, and eat this supper like a Trojan. I'll be back before you're through, with at least four chocolate drops."