“I can’t live at this rate!”

At the same time, Rachel sat down in the kitchen the large waiter upon which she had arranged the dishes from the breakfast table, and then sinking into a chair, pressed one hand upon her forehead, and sat for more than a minute in troubled silence.  It had been three days since she had received from Mrs. Smith a pleasant word, and the last remark, made to her a short time before, had been the unkindest of all.  At another time, even all this would not have moved her—­she could have perceived that Mrs. Smith was not in a right state—­that lassitude of body had produced a temporary infirmity of mind.  But, being herself affected by the oppressive season almost as much as her mistress, she could not make these allowances.  While still seated, the chamber bell was rung with a quick, startling jerk.

“What next?” peevishly ejaculated Rachel, and then slowly proceeded to obey the summons.

“How could you leave my chamber in such a condition as this?” was the salutation that met her ear, as she entered the presence of Mrs. Smith, who, half raised upon the bed, and leaning upon her hand, looked the very personification of languor, peevishness, and ill-humor.  “You had plenty of time while we were eating breakfast to have put things a little to rights!”

To this Rachel made no reply, but turned away and went back into the kitchen.  She had scarcely reached that spot, before the bell rang again, louder and quicker than before; but she did not answer it.  In about three minutes it was jerked with an energy that snapped the wire, but Rachel was immovable.  Five minutes elapsed, and then Mrs. Smith fully aroused, from the lethargy that had stolen over her, came down with a quick, firm step.

“What’s the reason you didn’t answer my bell? say?” she asked, in an excited voice.

Rachel did not reply.

“Do you hear me?”

Rachel had never been so treated before; she had lived with Mrs. Smith, for three years, and had rarely been found fault with.  She had been too strict in regard, to the performance of her duty to leave much room for even a more exacting mistress to find fault; but now, to be overtasked and sick, and to be chidden, rebuked, and even angrily assailed, was more than she could well bear.  She did not suffer herself to speak for some moments, and then her voice trembled, and the tears came out upon her cheeks.

“I wish you to get another in my place.  I find I don’t suit you.  My time will be up day after to-morrow.”

“Very well,” was Mrs. Smith’s firm reply, as she turned away, and left the kitchen,