This curt catalogue of her charms is unfair to her; but Mrs. Butt was
ever the victim of unfairness.

James Ollerenshaw looked audaciously in at the door. "It's Mrs. Butt,"
said he. "Us thought as ye were out."

"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Butt," Helen began, with candid pleasantness.

A pause.

"Good-afternoon, miss."

"And what have you got for uncle's tea to-day? Something tasty?"

"I've got this," said Mrs. Butt, with candid unpleasantness. And she
pointed to an oblate spheroid, the colour of brick, but smoother, which
lay on a plate near the gas-stove. It was a kidney.

"H'm!"--from James.

"It's not cooked yet, I see," Helen observed. "And--"

The clock finished her remark.

"No, miss, it's not cooked," said Mrs. Butt. "To tell ye the honest
truth, miss, I've been learning, 'stead o' cooking this 'ere kidney."
She picked up the kidney in her pudding-like hand and gazed at it. "I'm
glad the brasses is clean, miss, at any rate, though the house _does_
look as though there was no woman about the place, and servants _are_
silly. I'm thankful to Heaven as the brasses is clean. Come into my