coming from the house, but so disfigured with smuts of charcoal all over
her face and hands, we scarce knew her.

"God's mercy!" cries the Don. "What on earth have you been doing,
child?"

To which Moll replies with a curtsey:

"I am learning to be a cook-wench, Señor, at my father's desire."

"You are here," answers the Don, with a frown, "to learn to be a lady.
If a cook-wench is necessary, you shall have one" (this to us), "and
anything else that my means may afford. You will do well to write me a
list of your requirements; but observe," adds he, turning on his heel,
"we may have to stay here another twelvemonth, if my economies are not
sufficient by the end of the first year to take us hence."

This hint brought us to our senses very quickly, and overtaking him ere
he reached our garden gate, Dawson and I assured the Don we had no need
of any servant, and would be careful that Moll henceforth did no menial
office; that we would tax his generosity no more than we could help,
etc., to our great humiliation when we came to reflect on our conduct.

Thenceforth Dawson charged himself with the internal economy of the
house, and I with that part which concerned the custody and care of the
goats, the cultivation of pot-herbs and with such instruction of Moll in
the Italian tongue as I could command. But to tell the truth, we neither
of us did one stroke of work beyond what was absolutely necessary, and
especially Dawson, being past everything for indolence, did so order his
part that from having two dishes of flesh a day, we came, ere long, to