"You see now, Winifred, the advantage of having a place for everything, and everything in its place. If I were obliged to hunt all over the house for a basket, and then look half an hour for every individual thing I wanted to put into it, it would take me half the day, but now you see I have everything ready to my hand. These saffron cakes and these clean napkins and handkerchiefs are for Master Arthur. He used to be very fond of saffron cakes, poor dear young gentleman! This bit of bacon and these sausages are for the dame, and also this bottle of ginger cordial, which will be warming and comforting for her poor old bones. Now, can you carry any more?" Winifred lifted the basket, and thought she could. "Well then, here is the rose cordial for yourself, and a cake of gingerbread, but mind you must not let Jack have any of that to-day. And here are two clean shirts for Master Arthur. They are Sir Edward's, and are old and worn, but they will be better than none. So now go along, my dear, and may God bless you! Come again as soon as you can. And, Winifred!" she called after her. "Don't forget to tell your good mother to send up the green geese as soon as she can get them ready. She need not dress them. Betty and her niece can see to that." "Don't you mind Mrs. Alwright, Miss Winifred!" said good-natured Betty, as Winifred presently passed out by the kitchen door. "Her bark is worse than her bite, we all know that. I see she has been lecturing you, but that is all for your good. Young folks must learn. She scolds me too, but la! I don't mind. I know her ways, and take her the year round, you will not find many better people than Mrs. Alwright, look where you will." "And that is very true, Betty," said Winifred, not at all displeased to see Betty go off on a wrong scent. "I am sure she is very good to me. But I must hurry home as fast as I can." "Aye, and you have a heavy basket to carry—for some poor body, I warrant me! That is another of her ways. She will rail at my poor sister for having so many children, and not keeping them cleaner, but she always ends by giving her something to make over for them, and maybe a loaf of white bread for a treat. Then there was Madge Wilkin—" "I really must go, Betty!" said Winifred, cutting short the catalogue of Mrs. Alwright's good deeds, to which at another time she would gladly have listened. "Mother will need me, I am sure, and I want to see poor Jack." "Aye, go along, there's a dear maid! It is some comfort to have you about," said Betty, continuing her remarks for the benefit of her own niece, a girl about Winifred's age, who was cleaning some pots near by. "Not like some girls, who cannot even scour a saucepan without blacking themselves from head to foot. Why can't you take pattern by Miss Winifred, Cicily? You never saw 'her' in such a mess—no, not when she was no bigger than my thumb!"