but my sense of the proprieties had not suffered me to make the trial in her hearing. I lifted the little padded hammer with something of the old wantonness astir in me, but the flute-like tone that answered the stroke sounded painfully loud in the conscious stillness of the house, and I was horribly afraid some of the family would come in and discover me in this undignified procedure.
I went out to the kitchen and sat down there. After all, it was the most attractive place, being the most unaccustomed. A vaguely disturbing sense, born of long experience, that I ought to go and investigate the condition of the pantries began to steal over me. I knew exactly how everything would be found there. The little bottles of extract, "all in a row," would be floury or sticky, the "leftovers" would remain in the dishes in which they had made their début on the board. It was even possible the knives would be huddled in a corner, unscoured and ashamed.
Catherine, my faithful retainer and support, is the pride of the household. She will not leave me nor forsake me, but even she has her lapses, and it is the part of domestic discretion to be oblivious at times when
