“And saying this, Mr. Martinet turned upon his heel and left the house.  As you may suppose, I did not feel very comfortable, nor in a very good humour with Hannah.  When she made her appearance to set the table, which was not for a quarter of an hour, I gave her about as good a setting down, I reckon, as she ever had in her life.  Of course, I was paid back in impudence which I could not stand, and therefore gave her notice to quit.  If ever a woman was tried beyond endurance, I am.  My very life is becoming a burden to me.  The worst part of it is, there is no prospect of a change for the better.  Things, instead of growing better, grow worse.”

“It is not so bad as that, I hope,” I could not help remarking.  “Have you never thought of a remedy for the evils of which you complain?”

“A remedy, Kate!  What remedy is there?”

Mrs. Martinet looked at me curiously.

“If not a remedy, there is, I am sure, a palliative,” I returned, feeling doubtful of the effect of what I had it in my mind to express.

“What is the remedy or palliative of which you speak.  Name it, for goodness’ sake!  Like a drowning man, I will clutch it, if it be but a straw.”

“The remedy is patience.”  My voice slightly faltered as I spoke.

Instantly the colour deepened on the face of Mrs. Martinet.  But our close intimacy, and her knowledge of the fact that I was really a friend, prevented her from being offended.

“Patience!” she said, after she had a little recovered herself.  “Patience is no remedy.  To endure is not to cure.”

“In that, perhaps, you are mistaken,” I returned.  “The effect of patience is to cure domestic evils.  A calm exterior and a gentle, yet firm voice, will in nine cases in ten, effect more than the most passionate outbreak of indignant feelings.  I have seen it tried over and over again, and I am sure of the effect.”

“I should like to have seen the effect of a gentle voice upon my Harry, just now.”

“Forgive me for saying,” I answered to this, “that in my opinion, if you had met his passionate outbreak at the wrong he had suffered in losing his top-cord, in a different manner from what you did, that the effect would have been of a like different character.”

My friend’s face coloured more deeply, and her lips trembled.  But she had good sense, and this kept her from being offended at what I said.  I went on—­

“There is no virtue more necessary in the management of a household than patience.  It accomplishes almost every thing.  Yet it is a hard virtue to practise, and I am by no means sure that, if I were in your place, I would practise it any better than you do.  But it is of such vital importance to the order, comfort, and well-being of a family, to be able patiently and calmly to meet every disturbing and disorderly circumstance, that it is worth a struggle to attain the state of mind requisite to do so.