some good man says, that perfection bears with imperfection, and she says she fears we have a great many faults ourselves that we are so impatient with others—and that makes us a little ashamed[1]—take care, Lucy—you have not got the crumb-cloth quite straight—mamma's eyes are just like a plumb-line—that will do. Now ask Violet—please—to help you in with the table." Lucy made the request in the humblest manner; but it was before breakfast with poor Violet, and she was possessed by the demon of dyspepsy, who does not always spare the humble, though his visitations be chiefly to the exalted. She came up stairs grumbling, "I sha'n't stay here if they don't get a man—it's not my work to lug in the table—I wonder what it's dragged out for?—to have me drag it in, I suppose."
"I am very sorry to trouble you," said Lucy, "but it is Mrs. Hyde's order that the table shall not be lifted by one alone."
"Oh, I dare say—it's easy giving orders."
"Don't you feel as well as usual this morning, Violet?" asked Susan.
"I feel well enough."
"Oh! stop a minute, Violet," called a little girl who was coming down stairs with a bottle and glass in her hand.
- ↑ A successful case of forbearance with a very serious fault occurred in the family of a lady most exemplary in her relation to her domestics. She met her cook coming from the store-room with her apron full of pilfered tea. After a long conversation with the woman, in which she was made to feel her sin and folly, her mistress offered to retain her in her service, to keep her trespass a secret, and to trust her as usual. This she did. The woman continued to live with her for a long time, and served her most faithfully and gratefully.
