how nearly the compliment had lost him his pupil, I doubt if he
would have paid it.

There was a supper-tray after we got home at night and I think
we should all have enjoyed ourselves, but for a rather disagreeable
domestic occurrence. Mr. Pocket was in good spirits, when a
housemaid came in, and said, 'If you please, sir, I should wish to
speak to you.'

'Speak to your master?' said Mrs. Pocket, whose dignity was
aroused again. 'How can you think of such a thing? Go and speak
to Flopson. Or speak to me--at some other time.'

'Begging your pardon, ma'am,' returned the housemaid, 'I
should wish to speak at once, and to speak to master.'

Hereupon Mr. Pocket went out of the room. and we made the
best of ourselves until he came back.

'This is a pretty thing, Belinda!' said Mr. Pocket, returning with
a countenance expressive of grief and despair. 'Here's the cook
lying insensibly drunk on the kitchen floor, with a large bundle of
fresh butter made up in the cupboard ready to sell for grease!'

Mrs. Pocket instantly showed much amiable emotion, and said,
'This is that odious Sophia's doing!'

'What do you mean, Belinda?' demanded Mr. Pocket.

' Sophia has told you,' said Mrs. Pocket. 'Did I not see her, with
my own eyes, and hear her with my own ears, come into the room
just now and ask to speak to you?'

'But has she not taken me downstairs, Belinda,' returned Mr.
Pocket, 'and shown me the woman, and the bundle too?'

'And do you defend her, Matthew,' said Mrs. Pocket, 'for mak-
ing mischief?'

Mr. Pocket uttered a dismal groan.

'Am I, grandpapa's granddaughter, to be nothing in the house?'
said Mrs. Pocket. 'Besides, the cook has always been a very nice
respectful woman, and said in the most natural manner when she
came to look after the situation, that she felt I was born to be a
Duchess.'

There was a sofa where Mr. Pocket stood, and he dropped upon
it in the attitude of a Dying Gladiator. Still in that attitude he

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