Mrs. Hand’s roughly-brought-up daughter had never been in such a house before, and her examination of every new corner of it seemed quite a revelation.  Her own little sleeping nook was fully as tidy and comfortable as the rest, which fact was not lost upon Elizabeth.  That bright look of mingled softness and intelligence—­the only thing which beautified her rugged face—­came into the girl’s eyes as she “turned down” the truckle-bed, and felt the warm blankets and sheets, new and rather coarse, but neatly sewed.

“Her’s made ’em hersel’, I reckon.  La!” Which of her mistresses the “her” referred to remained unspecified; but Elizabeth, spurred to action by some new idea, went briskly back into the bedrooms, and looked about to see if there was any thing she could find to do.  At last, with a sudden inspiration, she peered into a wash-stand, and found there an empty ewer.  Taking it in one hand and the candle in the other, she ran down stairs.

Fatal activity!  Hilary’s pet cat, startled from sleep on the kitchen hearth, at the same instant ran wildly up stairs; there was a start—­a stumble—­and then down came the candle, the ewer, Elizabeth, and all.

It was an awful crash.  It brought every member of the family to see what was the matter.

“What has the girl broken?” cried Selina.

“Where has she hurt herself?” anxiously added Johanna.

Hilary said nothing, but ran for a light, and then picked up first the servant, then the candle, and then the fragments of crockery.

“Why, it’s my ewer, my favorite ewer, and it’s all smashed to bits, and I never can match it again.  You careless, clumsy, good-for-nothing creature!”

“Please, Selma,” whispered her eldest sister.

“Very well, Johanna.  You are the mistress, I suppose; why don’t you speak to your servant?”

Miss Leaf, in an humbled, alarmed way, first satisfied herself that no bodily injury had been sustained by Elizabeth, and then asked her how this disaster had happened?  For a serious disaster she felt it was.  Not only was the present loss annoying, but a servant with a talent for crockery breaking would be a far too expensive luxury for them to think of retaining.  And she had been listening in the solitude of the parlor to a long lecture from her always dissatisfied younger sister, on the great doubts Selina had about Elizabeth’s “suiting.”

“Come, now,” seeing the girl hesitated, “tell me the plain truth.  How was it?”

“It was the cat,” sobbed Elizabeth.

“What a barefaced falsehood.” exclaimed Selina.  “You wicked girl, how could it possibly be the cat?  Do you know that you are telling a lie, and that lies are hateful, and that all liars go to—­”

“Nonsense, hush!” interrupted Hilary, rather sharply; for Selina’s “tongue,” the terror of her childhood, now merely annoyed her.  Selina’s temper was a long understood household fact—­they did not much mind it, knowing that her bark was worse than her bite—­but it was provoking that she should exhibit herself so soon before the new servant.