face in her little cold attic. But how strangely altered was that face to her! Instead of the hearty kindness with which she had greeted her on Saturday evening, she averted her head, and replied grudgingly to Lucy's cordial "Good-morning! Where shall I set my basket?" asked Lucy.
"Where you can find a place—the hole is full enough already."
"I will set it outside, then," said Lucy; and, suppressing a sigh of disappointment, she returned to Mrs. Broadson.
"You've taken a time to go up stairs, child - but you are a stranger yet—you should move quick—I always do—a great deal of time is saved by quick movements. To be sure there's very little to do in my house, but then everybody ought to keep busy—I always do—I feel, and so does Mr. Broadson, as if it was very extravagant to keep three servants just for us two, and therefore it's your duty, child, to be as industrious and saving as possible—it's a great chance to get such a place as you have here, where there's only two; you must think of that, and you must not expect, as some servants do, to have everything on your table that we have on ours—I don't calculate to have you eat butter—I don't touch it myself—(the lady was forbidden it by her physician)—and I don't allow it to Jaboski—nor tea, Lucy, nor coffee—the doctors thinks them unhealthy nowadays—to be sure, Bridget has them, but then she's a woman—besides, as there's only two of us, we have enough left for her." Bridget, as Mrs. Broadson well knew, was sufficiently apprized of her rights not to suffer herself to be defrauded of them. "I expect you to get up
