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ing and squatting about, and hurryscurryation of the preparatory process, we should never eat more! My good cousin, absolve yourself from that! It’s more than a Catholic penance, and does no more good. You’ll only lose your own tem- per, and utterly confound Dinah. Let her go her own way.” “But, Augustine, you don’t know how I found things.” “Don’t I? Don’t I know that the rolling-pin is under her bed, and the nutmeg- grater in her pocket with her tobacco,- that there are sixty-five different sugar- bowls, one in every hole in the house,- that she washes dishes with a dinner-napkin one day, and with a fragment of an old petticoat the next? But the upshot is, she gets up glorious dinners, makes superb coffee; and you must judge her as warriors and statesmen are judged, by her success.” “But the waste,- the expense!” “O, well! Lock everything, you can, and keep the key. Give out by driblets, and never inquire for odds and ends,- it isn’t best.” “That troubles me, Augustine. I can’t help feeling as if these servants were not strictly honest. Are you sure they can be relied on?” Augustine laughed immoderately at the grave and anxious face with which Miss Ophelia propounded the question. “O cousin, that’s too good,- honest!- as if that’s a thing to be expected! Hon- est!- why, of course, they aren’t. Why should they be? What upon earth is to make them so?” |