“What, ma’am, shall we have for dinner?  No marketing ha’n’t come.”

“Have some steaks, then.”

“We ha’n’t got none, ma’am.”

“I will send out for some, directly.”

Now there was no one to send but Amy, and Mrs. James knew it.  With a sigh, she put down her letter and went into the nursery.

“Amy, Mr. James has forgotten our marketing.  I should like to have you run over to the provision store, and order some beef-steaks.  I will stay with the baby.”

Amy was not much pleased to be sent out on this errand.  She remarked, that “she must change her dress first.”

“Be as quick as possible,” said Mrs. James, “for I am particularly engaged at this hour.”

Amy neither obeyed, nor disobeyed, but managed to take her own time, without any very deliberate intention to do so.  Mrs. James, hoping to get along with a sentence or two, took her German book into the nursery.  But this arrangement was not to master Charley’s mind.  A fig did he care for German, but “the kitties,” he must have, whether or no—­and kitties he would find in that particular book—­so he turned its leaves over in great haste.  Half of the time on the second day of trial had gone, when Amy returned and Mrs. James with a sigh, left her nursery.  Before one o’clock, she was twice called into the kitchen to superintend some important dinner arrangement, and thus it turned out that she did not finish one page of her letter.

On the third morning the sun shone, and Mrs. James rose early, made every provision which she deemed necessary for dinner, and for the comfort of her family; and then, elated by her success, in good spirits, and with good courage, she entered her study precisely at eleven o’clock, and locked her door.  Her books were opened, and the challenge given to a hard German lesson.  Scarcely had she made the first onset, when the door-bell was heard to ring, and soon Bridget coming nearer and nearer—­then tapping at the door.

“Somebodies wants to see you in the parlor, ma’am.”

“Tell them I am engaged, Bridget.”

“I told ’em you were to-home, ma’am, and they sent up their names, but I ha’n’t got ’em, jist.”

There was no help for it—­Mrs. James must go down to receive her callers.  She had to smile when she felt little like it—­to be sociable when her thoughts were busy with her task.  Her friends made a long call—­they had nothing else to do with their time, and when they went, others came.  In very unsatisfactory chit-chat, her morning slipped away.

On the next day, Mr. James invited company to tea, and her morning was devoted to preparing for it; she did not enter her study.  On the day following, a sick-head-ache confined her to her bed, and on Saturday the care of the baby devolved upon her, as Amy had extra work to do.  Thus passed the first week.

True to her promise, Mrs. James patiently persevered for a month, in her efforts to secure for herself this little fragment of her broken time, but with what success, the first week’s history can tell.  With its close, closed the month of December.