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Rh your bonnet-box, in a plate ordinarily used as a card receiver, and sugar, butter, et cetera, and et cetera lying around almost anywhere, and the figs, oranges and homely, but necessary bread, where are they? I see, on top of 'Dombey & Son!

"And our dishes will not quarrel, because they are none of them any relation to each other!" laughed Cyn, as she peeled the tomatoes. "I fear goblets will have to take upon themselves the duties of cups, and that cracked tumbler of yours must be used for something. I am sorry that saucepan is so dilapidated, but it is the best I own!"

"And in that saucepan we must both boil the potatoes and stew the tomatoes. Won't one cool while the other is doing?" queried Nattie, hovering lovingly over the steak.

"I think not;" Cyn answered. "You won't mind the coffee being boiled in a tin can, once the repository of preserved peaches, will you?" "Ah, no!" replied Nattie emphatically, and sawing at the steak with a very dull knife, without a handle. "It will be just as good when it's poured out." "I had a coffee-pot once, but I melted the nose off and forgot to buy another yesterday," Cyn said, putting on the potatoes.

"We will call our contrivance a coffee-urn; it