As they entered the kitchen, she suddenly remembered that she had left some dishes piled in the sink, to be washed with the dinner things. In her absence, moreover, some hungry boy had been rummaging in the cake-box, and had left crumbs and morsels of food scattered over the table. Mrs. Harris paused on the threshold, and untied her bonnet, while her roving black eyes quickly took in the scene before her. Clean enough it had seemed to Barbara an hour before, but now many things, hitherto unnoticed, suddenly sprang into prominence. She saw that the white sash-curtain at the window was disreputably dirty; that the stove was actually rusty on top; that cobwebs lurked in the corners; and she remembered, with a pang, that the ice-box had not been cleaned since her mother left. “My!” ejaculated Mrs. Harris. “Well, I’ll get dinner first, then I’ll tackle this lookin’ room. You set the table, Barbara,—ain’t that your name?—an’ I’ll do the cookin’. What meat ’ave you ordered?” “None,” answered Barbara; “I don’t approve of eating meat, and have not allowed the children to have any for some time. Father has been taking his dinners down-town lately.” “Land alive!” ejaculated Mrs. Harris, turning shocked eyes upon Barbara. “The poor children! An’ your paw,—druv from ’is ’ome! Well! You jest go to the telephone, an’ horder a good piece of steak before it’s too late.” “I prefer not to have meat,” said Barbara, stiffly. Mrs. Harris’s face settled into stubborn lines. “I’ve never ’eard of anything so foolish,” she declared. “Growin’ children need meat, an’ you run right along an’ horder that steak.” It was at this point that Barbara’s sense of diplomacy came to her aid. This woman had indeed forced herself into the kitchen, but she was very welcome, nevertheless. She must not prejudice her at the outset, but must gradually accustom Mrs. Harris to her views. Barbara turned away to the telephone. Immediately Mrs. Harris’s manner changed, and she became affable again as she bustled capably about the kitchen, and assigned small jobs to her young mistress. “Hello!” cried Jack, joyfully, as he took his seat in his father’s place, and viewed the well-cooked steak. “Is the embargo off? Is this a carving-knife that I see before me? Why, Barbara! Didst do this thyself, lass?” “Jack,” said Barbara, nervously, “I have engaged a new maid and—” A decided voice from the kitchen interrupted her. “Barbara, you come an’ git the bread. I’m busy.” The children seated around the table stared at one another. “Whew!” whispered Jack to Gassy; “now, by my halidame, there goes Barbara. Is Petruchio in the kitchen?”