When Ethelbertha had finished she simply said:-- "You want me to lay the fires like that ?" "Yes, Amenda, we'll always have the fires laid like that in future, if you please." "All right, mum," replied Amenda, with perfect unconcern, and there the matter ended, for that evening.
On coming downstairs the next morning we found the breakfast table spread very nicely, but there was no breakfast.

We waited.

Ten minutes went by--a quarter of an hour--twenty minutes.

Then Ethelbertha rang the bell.

In response Amenda presented herself, calm and respectful.
"Do you know that the proper time for breakfast is half-past eight, Amenda ?" "Yes'm." "And do you know that it's now nearly nine ?" "Yes'm." "Well, isn't breakfast ready ?" "No, mum." "Will it _ever_ be ready ?" "Well, mum," replied Amenda, in a tone of genial frankness, "to tell you the truth, I don't think it ever will." "What's the reason?
Won't the fire light ?" "Oh yes, it lights all right." "Well, then, why can't you cook the breakfast ?" "Because before you can turn yourself round it goes out again." Amenda never volunteered statements.