"Who's a peddler, I should like to know? If you don't open that door pretty quick, I'll tell my sister to dismiss you without a character."
"Your sister!" repeated the girl, taken by surprise. "What has your sister got to do with me?"
"She gives you a home, and pays you wages, I reckon."
"Aint you a peddler, then?" demanded the girl, incredulously.
"I am Mrs. Oakley's brother, and you'd better invite me into the house, if you want to stay in it yourself."
"Excuse me, sir. I made a mistake. If you'll walk in I'll tell Mrs. Oakley you're here."
"That's the first sensible word you've spoken. I'll put my valise here in the entry."
"Well," thought the servant, "if that's Mrs. Oakley's brother, I don't think much of her family. I always thought she belonged to a poor set."
She went upstairs to the front chamber, where her mistress liked to sit, and said:—