I SUPPOSE a pleasanter kitchen was hardly ever seen than the one in which my story commences. It was not one of those under-ground places, with little square windows close to the low ceiling, and on a level with the street, or shut in by a grim area-wall, in which so many girls spend all their working time, without being able to see so much as a square foot of sky, except by twisting their heads half off their shoulders. No, it was a high, light room, with two large windows, which let in so much light and air that the geraniums and verbenas on the window seats flourished as if they had been in a green-house; and looking out upon a square yard, small to be sure, but kept so nicely, and in sum…
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