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

Here was trouble in good earnest.  Often and often had Mrs. Smith said, during the past two or three years—­“What should I do without Rachael?” And now she had given notice that she was going to leave her, and under circumstances which made pride forbid a request to stay.  Determined to act out her part of the business with firmness and decision, she dressed herself and went out, hot and oppressive as it was, and took her way to an intelligence office, where she paid the required fee and directed a cook and chambermaid to be sent to her.  On the next morning, about ten o’clock, an Irish girl came and offered herself as a cook, and was, after sundry questions and answers, engaged.  So soon as this negotiation was settled, Rachael retired from the kitchen, leaving the new-comer in full possession.  In half an hour after she received her wages, and left, in no very happy frame of mind, a home that had been for three years, until within a few days, a pleasant one.  As for Mrs. Smith, she was ready to go to bed sick; but this was impracticable.  Nancy, the new cook, had expressly stipulated that she was to have no duties unconnected with the kitchen.  The consequence was, that notwithstanding the thermometer ranged above ninety, and the atmosphere remained as sultry as air from a heated oven, Mrs. Smith was compelled to arrange her chamber and parlours.  By the time this was done, she was in a condition to go to bed, and lie until dinner-time.

The arrival of this important period brought new troubles and vexations.  Dinner was late by forty minutes, and then came on the table in a most abominable condition.  A fine sirloin was burnt to a crisp.  The tomatoes were smoked, and the potatoes watery.  As if this was not enough to mar the pleasure of the dinner hour for a hungry husband, Mrs. Smith added thereto a distressed countenance and discouraging complaints.  Nancy was grumbled at and scolded every time she had occasion to appear in the room, and her single attempt to excuse herself on account of not understanding the cook-stove, was met by, “Do hush, will you!  I’m out of all patience!”

As to the latter part of the sentence, that was a needless waste of words.  The condition of mind she described was fully apparent.

About three o’clock in the afternoon, just as Mrs. Smith had found a temporary relief from a troubled mind, and a most intolerable headache, in sleep, a tap on the chamber-door awoke her, and there stood Nancy, all equipped for going out.

“I find I won’t suit you, ma’am,” said Nancy, “and so you must look out for another girl.”

Having said this, she turned away and took her departure, leaving Mrs. Smith in a state of mind, as it is said, “more easily imagined than described.”