122 The Real Charlotte. 



says to be hurrying, for 'tis short till Miss Charlotte '11 be 

 comin' in." 



Francie closed the blotter on her half-finished letter, and 

 pursued the vanishing figure to the kitchen. Norry was 

 not to be seen, but on the table were bowls with flour, 

 eggs, and sugar, and beside them was laid a bunch of 

 twigs, tied together like a miniature birch-rod. The mak- 

 ing of a sponge-cake was one of Francie's few accomplish- 

 ments, and putting on an apron of dubious cleanliness, lent 

 by Louisa, she began operations by breaking the eggs, 

 separating the yolks from the whites, and throwing the 

 shells into the fire with professional accuracy of aim. 



" Where's the egg-whisk. Bid ? " she demanded. 



" 'Tis thim that she bates the eggs with. Miss," answered 

 Bid Sal in the small, bashful voice by which she indicated 

 her extreme humility towards those in authority over her, 

 handing the birch-rod to Francie as she spoke. 



" Mercy on us ! What a thing ! I'd be all night beat- 

 ing them with that ! " 



" Musha, how grand ye are ! " broke in Norry's voice 

 from the scullery, in tones of high disdain ; " if ye can't 

 bate eggs with that ye'd better lave it to thim that can ! " 

 Following her words came Norry herself, bearing an im- 

 mense saucepanful of potatoes, and having hoisted it on to 

 the fire, she addressed herself to Bid Sal. " Get out from 

 undher me feet out o' this ! I suppose it's to make cakes 

 ye'd go, in place of feedin' the pigs ! God knows I have 

 as much talked since breakfast as'd sicken an ass, but, in- 

 deed, I might as well be playin' the pianna as tellin' yer 

 business to the likes o' ye." 



A harsh yell at this point announced that a cat's tail had 

 been trodden on, but, far from expressing compunction, 

 Norry turned with fury upon the latest offender, and seiz- 

 ing from a corner beside the dresser an ancient carriage 

 whip, evidently secreted for the purpose, she flogged the 

 whole assemblage of cats out of the kitchen. Bid Sal 

 melted away like snow in a thaw, and Norry, snatching the 

 bowl of eggs from Francie, began to thrash them with the 

 birch rod, scolding and grumbling all the time. 



" That ye may be happy ! " (This pious wish was with 

 Norry always ironical.) *' God knows ye should be ashamed. 



