"He. 'Well, you know, Mrs. Sims, he's an orphan, and—'
"She. 'Well, hi like that. Han horphan! hand 'is father lives hup hin has good a farm has there his hin Tracadie.'
"He. 'Well, his father Gilbert died, and Lisette, his mother, married François: and then Lisette, his mother, died, and François married his cousin Christine; and then François died, and Christine married Jacques the blacksmith; and so he hasn't any father or mother, and no home, and I let him stay here.'
"She. 'Yes, hand you'd 'ave the place heaten hup with lazy, dirty, thieving beggars hif hit wasn't for me. Hi told your brother when 'e sent me hover. Says 'e, "My brother his too heasy, han' needs some un to see that 'e hisn't himposed hupon." Says hi, "Wen hi'm hunable to do my duty, hi've honly to return 'ome to Hingland." Wich hi've just 'ad a letter from my sister; han' hif hi must slave for sich, hi'd rather give warnin' for to-morrow come four weeks.'
"He (nervously). 'Why, my dear Mrs. Sims—'
"She. 'Yes, sir; hand that dratted dog Carlo, hevery mornin', when hi goes to hair your sheets, gives me ha start with growlin' hat me from hunder the bed-clothes, wich 'e wraps 'isself hup hin hevery mornin', sir, like has hif 'e were a Christian. Now, sir, hi'm ready to slave hand wear myself hout for you, but has for slavin' for a dirty cur and a French brat, hi've no need to, han' hi won't.'
He. 'Well, well, Mrs. Sims, we'll see what can be done—what can be done. I'll get a chain for Gilbert, and send the dog away. No, I mean I'll—No, I'll—Confound it, madam, let's have breakfast.'
"On the same afternoon Mr. Grahame, the nearest magistrate, called on business, and to him Worrell related his domestic troubles.
"'I can't do without her, for she is a splendid cook, and keeps my clothes in first-rate order. I can't bear the thought of the cookery I should have to eat, and the dirt and disorder I should see around me, if she does go away. But she's a regular Tartar, and I've no authority at all in my house.'
"'Well, Worrell, it's a hard case; but I would chain up that dog. As to poor little Gilbert, do what you think is right in spite of her. If she leaves—Ah, I have it. Go into town, and propose to one of the F. sisters. They are all good cooks and amiable women, and you'll be rid of your Tartar.'