“What an infernal nuisance!” cried the young gentleman, who was like most boys, good-natured and selfish.  “The moment I get a servant I like he wants to go to the devil.”

“Only to Bathurst, sir,” said Robinson deprecatingly, to put him in a good humor.

“And what am I to do for another?”

At this moment in came Jenny with all the paraphernalia of breakfast.  “Here, Jenny,” cried he, “here’s Robinson wants to leave us.  Stupid ass!”

Jenny stood transfixed with the tray in her hand.  “Since when?” asked she of her master, but looking at Robinson.

“This moment.  The faithful creature greeted my return with that proposal.”

“Well, sir, a servant isn’t a slave and suppose he has a reason?”

“Oh! they have always got a reason, such as it is.  Wants to go and squat at Bathurst.  Well, Tom, you are a fool for leaving us, but of course we shan’t pay you the compliment of keeping you against your will, shall we?” looking at Jane.

“What have I to do with it?” replied she, opening her gray eyes.  “What is it to me whether he goes or stays?”

“Come, I like that.  Why you are the housemaid and he is the footman, and those two we know are always”—­and the young gentleman eked out his meaning by whistling a tune.

“Mr. Miles,” said Jenny, very gravely, like an elder rebuking a younger, “you must excuse me, sir, but I advise you not to make so free with your servants.  Servants are encroaching, and they will be sure to take liberties with you in turn; and,” turning suddenly red and angry, “if you talk like that to me I shall leave the room.”

“Well, if you must! you must! but bring the tea-kettle back with you.  That is a duck!”

Jenny could not help laughing, and went for the tea-kettle.  On her return Robinson made signals to her over the master’s head, which he had begun to frizz.  At first she looked puzzled, but following the direction of his eye she saw that her master’s right hand was terribly cut and swollen.  “Oh!” cried the girl.  “Oh, dear!  Oh, dear!”

“Eh?” cried Mr. Miles, “what is the row?”

“Look at your poor hand, sir!”

“Oh, ay! isn’t it hideous.  Met with an accident.  Soon get well.”

“No, it won’t, not of itself; but I have got a capital lotion for bruises, and I shall bathe it for you.”

Jenny brought in a large basin of warm water and began to foment it first, touching it so tenderly.  “And his hand that was as white as a lady’s,” said Jenny pitifully, “po-o-r bo-y!” This kind expression had no sooner escaped her than she colored and bent her head down over her work, hoping it might escape notice.

“Young woman,” said Mr. Miles with paternal gravity, “servants are advised not to make too free with their masters; or the beggars will forget their place and take liberties with you.  He!  He!  He!”

Jenny put his hand quietly down into the water and got up and ran across the room for the door.  Her course was arrested by a howl from the jocose youth.