“Han-nah!” again called Squire Newcome, separating the two syllables by a pause of deliberation, and strongly accenting the last syllable,—­a habit of his with all proper names.

Hannah was the Irish servant of all work, who was just then engaged in mixing up bread in the room adjoining, which was the kitchen.

Feeling a natural reluctance to appear before her employer with her hands covered with dough, she hastily washed them.  All this, however, took time, and before she responded to the first summons, the second “Han-nah!” delivered with a little sharp emphasis, had been uttered.

At length she appeared at the door of the sitting-room.

“Han-nah!” said Squire Newcome, fixing his cold gray eye upon her, “when you hear my voice a calling you, it is your duty to answer the summons immejiately.”

I have endeavored to represent the Squire’s pronunciation of the last word.

“So I would have come IMMEJOUSLY,” said Hannah, displaying a most reprehensible ignorance, “but me hands were all covered with flour.”

“That makes no difference,” interrupted the Squire.  “Flour is an accidental circumstance.”

“What’s that?” thought Hannah, opening her eyes in amazement.

“And should not be allowed to interpose an obstacle to an IMMEJIATE answer to my summons.”

“Sir,” said Hannah, who guessed at the meaning though she did not understand the words, “you wouldn’t have me dirty the door-handle with me doughy hands?”

“That could easily be remedied by ablution.”

“There ain’t any ablution in the house,” said the mystified Hannah.

“I mean,” Squire Newcome condescended to explain, “the application of water—­in short, washing.”

“Shure,” said Hannah, as light broke in upon her mind, “I never knew that was what they called it before.”

“Is Ben-ja-min at home?”

“Yes, sir.  He was out playin’ in the yard a minute ago.  I guess you can see him from the winder.”

So saying she stepped forward, and looking out, all at once gave a shrill scream, and rushed from the room, leaving her employer in his bolt-upright attitude gazing after her with as much astonishment as he was capable of.

The cause of her sudden exit was revealed on looking out of the window.

Master Benjamin, or Ben, as he was called everywhere except in his own family, had got possession of the black kitten, and appeared to be submerging her in the hogshead of rainwater.

“O, you wicked, cruel boy, to drown poor Kitty!” exclaimed the indignant Hannah, rushing into the yard and endeavoring to snatch her feline favorite—­an attempt which Ben stoutly resisted.

Doubtless the poor kitten would have fared badly between the two, had not the window opened, and the deliberate voice of his father, called out in tones which Ben saw fit to heed.

“What?”

“Come into my presence immejiately, and learn to answer me with more respect.”