The girl went down-stairs to take back the milk she had brought up, but she was scarcely at the bottom of the stairs, when the bell was rung for her.

“Why don’t you stay here?  What are you running off about?” said Mrs. Jones, as she came in hurriedly.  “You know I want you to wait on the table.”

And so it was during the whole meal.  The girl was not once spoken to except in a tone of anger or offensive authority.

I was no longer surprised that Mrs. Jones found it difficult to keep good domestics, for no one of feeling can long remain with a woman who speaks to them always in a tone of command, or who reproves them in the presence of visitors.

My husband was very severe upon Mrs. Jones after we returned home.  “No lady,” said he, “ever spoke in anger or reproof to a domestic before a visitor or stranger.  Nothing more surely evinces a vulgar and unfeeling mind.”

I did not attempt to gainsay his remark, for he expressed but my own sentiment.  So far from uttering a reproof in the presence of a visitor, I am careful not to speak to my domestics about any fault even in the presence of my husband.  They have a certain respect for themselves, and a certain delicacy of feeling, which we should rather encourage than break down.  Nearly all domestics are careful to appear as well as possible in the eyes of the head of the family, and it hurts them exceedingly to be reproved, or angrily spoken to, before him.  This every woman ought to know by instinct, and those who do not are just so far deficient in the aggregate of qualities that go to make up the true lady.

I was by no means surprised to hear from Mrs. Jones, a few days afterwards, that the “good-for-nothing creature” who waited upon the table on the occasion of our taking tea at her house, had gone away and left her.  I thought better of the girl for having the spirit to resent, in this way, the outrage committed upon her feelings.  Domestics have rights and feelings; and if people were to regard these more, and treat them with greater kindness and consideration than they do, there would be fewer complaints than there are at present.  This is my opinion, and I must be pardoned for expressing it.

HAVEN’T THE CHANGE.

It was house-cleaning time, and I had an old coloured woman at work scrubbing and cleaning paint.

“Polly is going, ma’am,” said one of my domestics, as the twilight began to fall.

“Very well.  Tell her that I shall want her tomorrow.”

“I think she would like to have her money for to-day’s work,” said the girl.

I took out my purse, and found that I had nothing in it less than a three-dollar bill.

“How much does she have a day?”

“Six shillings, ma’am.”

“I haven’t the change this evening.  Tell her that I’ll pay for both days to-morrow.”

The girl left the room, and I thought no more of Polly for an hour.  Tea-time had come and passed, when one of my domestics, who was rather communicative in her habits, said to me: