recovered with the total loss of her speech.  In addition to this objection, she was odd, at times, in her manner; and she made it a condition of accepting any situation, that she should be privileged to sleep in a room by herself As a set-off against all this, it was to be said, on the other side of the question, that she was sober; rigidly honest in all her dealings; and one of the best cooks in England.  In consideration of this last merit, the late Sir Thomas had decided on giving her a trial, and had discovered that he had never dined in his life as he dined when Hester Dethridge was at the head of his kitchen.  She remained after his death in his widow’s service.  Lady Lundie was far from liking her.  An unpleasant suspicion attached to the cook, which Sir Thomas had over-looked, but which persons less sensible of the immense importance of dining well could not fail to regard as a serious objection to her.  Medical men, consulted about her case discovered certain physiological anomalies in it which led them to suspect the woman of feigning dumbness, for some reason best known to herself.  She obstinately declined to learn the deaf and dumb alphabet—­on the ground that dumbness was not associated with deafness in her case.  Stratagems were invented (seeing that she really did possess the use of her ears) to entrap her into also using her speech, and failed.  Efforts were made to induce her to answer questions relating to her past life in her husband’s time.  She flatly declined to reply to them, one and all.  At certain intervals, strange impulses to get a holiday away from the house appeared to seize her.  If she was resisted, she passively declined to do her work.  If she was threatened with dismissal, she impenetrably bowed her head, as much as to say, “Give me the word, and I go.”  Over and over again, Lady Lundie had decided, naturally enough, on no longer keeping such a servant as this; but she had never yet carried the decision to execution.  A cook who is a perfect mistress of her art, who asks for no perquisites, who allows no waste, who never quarrels with the other servants, who drinks nothing stronger than tea, who is to be trusted with untold gold—­is not a cook easily replaced.  In this mortal life we put up with many persons and things, as Lady Lundie put up with her cook.  The woman lived, as it were, on the brink of dismissal—­but thus far the woman kept her place—­getting her holidays when she asked for them (which, to do her justice, was not often) and sleeping always (go where she might with the family) with a locked door, in a room by herself.

Hester Dethridge advanced slowly to the table at which Lady Lundie was sitting.  A slate and pencil hung at her side, which she used for making such replies as were not to be expressed by a gesture or by a motion of the head.  She took up the slate and pencil, and waited with stony submission for her mistress to begin.

Lady Lundie opened the proceedings with the regular formula of inquiry which she had used with all the other servants,