'That is one of the benefits of living in Major Street. It ought to be called "Minor,"—for we are "minus" nearly everything, I think.'
What could Esther say?
'My dear, what sort of bread is this?'
'It is from the baker's, papa. Is it not good?'
'Baker's bread is never good; not fit to nourish life upon. How comes it we have baker's bread? Barker knows what I think of it.'
'I suppose she was unable to bake yesterday.'
'And of course to-day her bread will be too fresh to be eatable! My dear, cannot you bring a little system into her ways?'
'She does the very best she can, papa.'
'Yes, yes, I know that; as far as the intention goes; but all such people want a head over them. They know nothing whatever about system. By the way, can't she fry her bacon without burning it? This is done to a crisp.'
'Papa, I am very sorry! I did not mean to give you a burnt piece. Mine is very good. Let me find you a better bit.'