Queen of France knew of political economy, when, being told her people were clamorous for bread, she asked, "Why, if there was no bread, did they not give them cake?" Mrs. Ardley believed, in the honesty of her heart, that when she had hired plenty of servants, paid punctually the highest wages, bestowed handsome presents, fed them not only bountifully, but luxuriously, and never scolded, she had performed the whole active and passive duty of a mistress. In common with many others, she imputed the jars and break-downs of her domestic machinery to the imperfect mechanism of our society. "Everybody had trouble with their servants; of course she must expect it," was the general balm she applied to her domestic wounds.
Lucy one morning was summoned to bring the baby down to show to some visitors, and the little thing being charmed with the furs, feathers, and flowers that decorated the gay guests, Lucy was bidden to remain in the drawing-room, and, retiring to the window, she heard, not inattentively, the following conversation. "Do you keep the nursery-maid you brought with you from Paris, Mrs. Hartell?
"Dear! yes. I would not part with her on any account. She speaks such pure Parisian French. My next baby, I am resolved, shan't get the bad habits of my other children—it shall speak French first, and French always. I am very fortunate just now; I have a French cook, and a jewel of a French waiter."
"But do not your other servants quarrel with them?" asked Mrs. Ardley; "I had a French cook once, and they made a perfect inferno below stairs."
"Oh, n'importe!" replied Mrs. Hartell, shrug-
