Amelia spoke truly; there was a great difference between the seeing capacity of her two eyes, one of these being what is known as “walled.”  Amelia was an orphan; she had been dragged up by the “Metropolitan Association for Befriending Young Servants,” known to its familiars as the “Mabys,” such designation being formed by the first letter of each word of the title.  Every week, dozens of these young women issued from the doors of the many branches of this institution, who became, to their respective mistresses, a source of endless complaint; in times of domestic stress, one or two of these “generals” had been known to keep their situations for three months.  Amelia was a prodigy of success, a record in the annals of the society, inasmuch as she had been at Brandenburg College for two years and a half.  She kept her situation because she was cheap; also, because she did her best to give satisfaction, as she appreciated the intellectual atmosphere of the place, which made her hope that she, too, might pick up a few educational crumbs; moreover, she was able to boast to her intimates, on the occasions when she visited her parent home, how her two mistresses could speak four languages, which was certainly true.

“Wasn’t it all beautiful, miss?” asked Amelia, who had listened to yesterday’s entertainment halfway down the stairs leading to the basement.

“Wonderful,” replied Mavis, as she tied on a kitchen apron, a preliminary to giving Amelia a helping hand with the breakfast.

“And the ‘reverend’!  He did make me laugh when he gave four prizes to fat Miss Robson, and said she was a good all round girl.”

This joke had not been intentional on Mr Smiley’s part; he had been puzzled by the roar of laughter which had greeted his remark; when he divined its purport, he was quite willing to take credit for having deliberately made the sally.

“You managed to hear that?” asked Mavis.

“Yes, miss; an’ what the ‘reverend’ said about dear Mr Fuskin.  I ’eard that too.”

“Ruskin,” corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee.

Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss Keeves, who, noticing the girl’s dejection, said: 

“Call him what you like, Amelia.  It’s only the Miss Mees who’re so particular.”

“Dear gentleman,” continued Amelia.  “Next to being always with you, miss, I should like to have been with ’im.”

“I’m afraid you can’t even be with me.  I have to earn my own living.”

“Yes, miss; but when you marry a rich gentleman, I should like to come with you as ‘general.’”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Amelia.”

“But it ain’t, miss; didn’t the music master, ’im with the lovely, long, shiny ‘air, promise me a shillin’ to give you a note?”

“Did he?” laughed Mavis.  “It’s nearly eight:  you’d better take in the breakfast things.”

“Oh, well, if I can’t be here, or with you, I’d sooner be with that dear Mr—­”