A dirty slip-shod girl sat sleeping, with her apron thrown over
her head, which rested on the end of a table. The open door of the
servants' hall hard by disclosed a pile of dress and other clothes, which,
after mopping up the ale and other slops, would be carefully folded and
taken back to the rooms of their respective owners.
[Illustration: DOMESTIC ECONOMY OF NONSUCH HOUSE]
'Halloo!' cried Mr. Sponge, shaking the sleeping girl by the shoulder,
which caused her to start up, stare, and rub her eyes in wild affright.
'Halloo!' repeated he, 'what's happened you?'
'Oh, beg pardon, sir!' exclaimed she; 'beg pardon,' continued she, clasping
her hands; 'I'll never do so again, sir; no, sir, I'll never do so again,
indeed I won't.'
She had just stolen a shape of blanc-mange, and thought she was caught.
'Then show me where I'll find pen and ink and paper,' replied our friend.
'Oh, sir, I don't know nothin' about them,' replied the girl; 'indeed, sir,
I don't'; thinking it was some other petty larceny he was inquiring about.
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