"Cook, why did you not clean the tea-
things?"

"Madame, I am cook. I cannot clean dishes."

"Polygaie, why did you not clean the dishes?"

"Madame, I am room-girl, and dust."

"Evan, why did you not do it?"

"Madame, I am lacquey, and wait."

Of course the key-keeper was miles above
this. So they all went off to their lairs, and we
sent for a dish-washer.

At the end of the week the floors wanted
washing, and a question arose who was to do it.
The cook cooked, the room-girl dusted, the
lacquey waited, the scullery-maid washed dishes,
and the key-keeper did nothing but sleep. My
wife was making up her mind to be her own key-
keeper, as she thought the sleeping on the sofa
might be accomplished by herself if necessary,
but she could not scrub the floors. The others,
even on promise of an addition to their wages,
refused in a body. "Too much work, madame.
Cannot be done." They all evidently were
working for the "stick," but we did not believe
in the "stick." The upshot was, that four
outsiders were hired to come once a week to wash
the floors.

It was the same with washing clothes and
getting up linen. A woman was engaged for the
first, and the latter had to be done by my wife,
because no one could be got who knew what it
meant.

"Evan, why the deuce have my boots not
been cleaned these three days?"

"If you please, baron, I am lacquey, not
boot-cleaner," said Evan. So he rolled himself up
again in his corner, and was snoring immediately.

A boot-cleaner was, of course, hired; then a
man to cut and fetch wood, and another to cut
it into small pieces and keep the fires up.

Thus had my establishment increased in one
week to thirteen souls. The wages of these
people were small, it is true, but higher wages
had no charm to induce extra exertion. Let the
ladies of England think much of Betty and
Jane. Complain less, use them well, speak kindly
to them, and one Betty will do more—and more
faithful—work than all my thirteen Russians,
with thirty thirteens to that. So says my wife,
who remembers faithfulness and friendship in
brisk English maids. Now all these Russian
servants must be fed, and that means something;
not that their nominal food is much, but that
the real consumption in the way of theft is
beyond calculation. Say that the nominal power
of a Russian servant's capacity for victual is
ten, the real indicated consumption will be two
hundred and fifty.

At the end of the first week our key-keeper
rolled off the sofa, rubbed her eyes, yawned, and
then said,

"More money, madame, to get coffee and tea
and sugar from the 'econom.'"

"Do you mean to tell me that those stores
are all gone?"

"All gone, madame."

"What on earth have you done with them?
Tell me."

"All eaten up, madame, by the baron and the
children and yourself."

"What, twenty-eight pounds of sugar, three
pounds of tea, and eight pounds of coffee
consumed in a week by my family?"

"Yes, madame. No one has touched them.
They cannot last for ever, you see. What's to
be done?" And she shrugged her shoulders in
the usual manner.

"I will tell you what's to be done. You are
to take yourself off instantly." So key-keeper
was bundled out. The next was no better, nor
the next, and the alternative forced itself on
madame, "I must be key-keeper myself."

This did not much mend the matter. The
sugar, tea, and coffee continued to vanish,
nobody could tell how, and we continued to spend
for a few weeks at the rate of three pounds a
week for these three articles. To have
preserved them untouched it would have been
necessary to place them in the centre of the big
room, and station a guard of soldiers (not
Russian soldiers, who are themselves the biggest
thieves in the world), a file of Napoleon's old
guard, to watch them night and day. Keys and
cupboards were got, but these did not much
help to abate the evil. The thieving still went
on, and my wife was at her wits' end.

"Have you examined their boxes, my dear?"

"No; but it must come to that again. I
thought when I left those experienced and
incorrigible thieving Petersburg servants this
would not be necessary. I did not mind emptying
their boxes once a week, but these innocent
country peasants—I cannot imagine them guilty.
However, I must try them. Come and protect
me, for the first time."

It was after dinner when we proceeded to the
kitchen. The whole establishment was fast
asleep, squatted and rolled up in various corners.
The kitchen a picture of dirt and confusion. A
little cold water roused our friends up.

"Titania, give me your key," said madam.

"It is lost, madam."

"Give it instantly. There it is hanging at
your side. If you don't be quick, I shall send
for the Starosta, and have you whipped."

The key was handed over, and the box opened.
This innocent peasant girl's box contained a
canvas bag filled with pieces of lump sugar,
paper parcels of tea and coffee, needles, pins,
buttons, hooks and eyes, pieces of tape, laces,
bits of soap, candles half burnt, children's toys,
sealing-wax, pens, note paper, and a host of
other small articles, all of which my wife identified
as hers, and coolly carried off, leaving me
sentinel over the others, every one (except
Titania, who had been found out) vociferating
innocence, and taking Heaven to witness that
hands and boxes were entirely clean. Titania was
grovelling on the floor at my feet, begging pardon
and mercy. The detective returned and opened
at leisure every box in its turn, carrying away
from each the stolen contents, as she had done
with the first. Every box was found with as
much in it, and some with more in them, than
Titania's.