HOUSEKEEPING. 93 



standing in front of the table. The towel had dropped 

 on the floor, the hot water had cooled around the 

 unwashed saucers, and Wildie had a plate in her left 

 hand. That plate was held upside down, and on the 

 inverted surface lay a small piece of writing-paper, 

 almost covered with verses, in various stages of poetic 

 existence. 



The young author had paused for a word to rhyme 

 with " rove." Nothing more original than " love " 

 would suggest itself, and Wildie was at that stage of 

 feminine existence when a perfect indifference to, and 

 scorn for everything pertaining to the tender passion is 

 at its height; therefore that word could not be made 

 to fit into her poem. Otherwise, she must have been 

 highly gratified with her own performance, and con- 

 fident of finding a suitable rhyme before long, for a 

 bright light was on her face, and Nye could not find 

 it in her heart to scold. She merely exclaimed, " Is 

 that the way you wash up dishes ? " 



Pencil, paper, plate, dropped from Wildie's hands, 

 and that poem remains an unfinished relic of days 

 departed. 



Matters reached a climax when Tribby, coming after 

 "Wildie, found every article in the store-room put in 

 a different position. All the jars and bottles which 

 Wildie considered " not pretty " had been set behind 

 something which she had arranged in artistic, but 

 highly impracticable order. The barrels had been 

 shoved about so as to stand in the order of their sizes 

 and with royal disregard to their contents. 



