warned by her ill success, she proceeded in her work of reform. "Ferris," she said, when Ferris came to take the bill of fare for dinner, "Ferris, I feel it to be my duty to speak to you about your habits."
Ferris was by birth an Englishwoman, and she retained somewhat of the deferential un-American manners of her early years.
"Thank you, madam," she replied; "and in what don't my habits suit, madam?"
"You know, of course, what I mean, Ferris."
"Indeed, Mrs. Ardley, I am as ignorant as the babe unborn."
"Then, candidly, Ferris, I tell you I fear you drink too much."
"Indeed, Mrs. Ardley, there's been a foul tongue between us. I am not in the least fond of drink."
"Do you not drink spirits every day, Ferris?"
"Indeed, madam, I tell you the living truth—I just take the weakest of weakly toddy, to take off the 'fect of the dinner-steam, for medicine like. But as to drinking, there's not the woman soberer than I in the city."
Mrs. Ardley smiled at the hardihood of this assertion; but she thought it most politic not to express in direct terms her incredulity, so she said, good-humouredly, "I hope you will persevere in sober habits, Ferris, for intemperance is very foolish and very wicked. And pray, Ferris, don't burn another bedspread!"
"Did ye think it was me, Mrs. Ardley, and just
happiness. We trust that gentleman will pardon us for availing ourselves of the authority of his name in support of a favourite theory.
