Tags
- adalbert waffling
- agnes holliday
- aloysius parkinson
- annie schenk
- basil penderel
- beatrice theodore
- blanche skeffington
- edmund ramsay
- edwin blackwell
- estrella prieto
- evelyn seymour
- galatea merrythought
- ismeria mcquillen
- martha fustlewick
- milton laughton
- news
- oliver barrow
- oscar higgs-quigley
- staff noticeboard
- sunday dinner
- timandra starkey
- viola fawcett
- week four (22-28 september)
- week one (1-7 september)
- week three (15-21 september)
- week two (8-14 september)
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Sep. 15th, 2013
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Sep. 13th, 2013
Who: Oliver & _____
What: Damn Bird was supposed to have a clipped wing.
When:Thursday afternoon
Where: The Quidditch Pitch
Warning: Some of these birds are pretty freaky looking. Google it, I dare you.
There are days that one is thankful for class schedules, and luck that can some times go along with it. Had, for example Oliver had attempted to demonstrate how to capture the spell-resilliant Potoo bird to his first-hour or even afternoon classes, he would have held up other lessons for the sake of running about the pitch like a right fool in front of all to see. As it was, he had no last hour, and these fourty-five minutes were his to charm a net without shame.
The situation that had led Oliver to this predicament was not entirely his own of course. Gregory Mathews, an Australian he had come across in professional circles had brought the damn things up. Had even offered the loan of a breeding pair while he managed to find a temporary flat. It was all to be for the benifit of the other. It was all to be without a hitch... until of course, a latch broke.
The birds, technically non-magical and un-inspiring to the wizarding community had the unique trait of being rather immune to nearly all magic that had been tried on them. No stunning charms, no wand work, no flying nets chasing behind them had effect. Oliver knew, he tried.
This of course was why he stood out on quiddtich pitch, house elves at his side holding out his bowler cap filled to the brim with bird seed.
They'd have to get hungry eventually... ... right?
What: Damn Bird was supposed to have a clipped wing.
When:Thursday afternoon
Where: The Quidditch Pitch
Warning: Some of these birds are pretty freaky looking. Google it, I dare you.
There are days that one is thankful for class schedules, and luck that can some times go along with it. Had, for example Oliver had attempted to demonstrate how to capture the spell-resilliant Potoo bird to his first-hour or even afternoon classes, he would have held up other lessons for the sake of running about the pitch like a right fool in front of all to see. As it was, he had no last hour, and these fourty-five minutes were his to charm a net without shame.
The situation that had led Oliver to this predicament was not entirely his own of course. Gregory Mathews, an Australian he had come across in professional circles had brought the damn things up. Had even offered the loan of a breeding pair while he managed to find a temporary flat. It was all to be for the benifit of the other. It was all to be without a hitch... until of course, a latch broke.
The birds, technically non-magical and un-inspiring to the wizarding community had the unique trait of being rather immune to nearly all magic that had been tried on them. No stunning charms, no wand work, no flying nets chasing behind them had effect. Oliver knew, he tried.
This of course was why he stood out on quiddtich pitch, house elves at his side holding out his bowler cap filled to the brim with bird seed.
They'd have to get hungry eventually... ... right?
[STAFF NOTICEBOARD]
The rolling bridge at the base of the clock tower appears to be malfunctioning again. Please exercise caution when making the crossing.
New staff members, please be advised that coloured smoke appearing over the hedge maze signifies that a student has become lost and requires rescue. Other displays above the maze generally mean a student has forgotten how to create smoke.
New staff members, please be advised that coloured smoke appearing over the hedge maze signifies that a student has become lost and requires rescue. Other displays above the maze generally mean a student has forgotten how to create smoke.
OPEN: Lou and Tim
Who: Aloysius Parkinson and OPEN (could be YOU!) Timandra Starkey! (and possibly others, it's a big staff room)
What: Staff room shenanigans, i.e., come talk to the new professor.
When: Friday morning, during the break before lunch
Where: The staff room, where anybody can be.
Warnings: None expected! We are all ladies and gentlemen.
Lou had finished his lectures for the morning. Young Slytherins and young Hufflepuffs were not a great combination immediately after breakfast, and neither were the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws that had followed. Whoever had put those Houses together for this subject had, in Lou's opinion, a rather mean sense of humour. Or perhaps a strong sense of who needed to be educated about exactly what. Had he been that difficult for his professors when he was a student? This week, Lou had frequently felt an urge to apologise to the older teachers who'd been here when he was a student. He had no idea how they'd coped. But coped they had, and cope Lou would, because he was out of options.
He came into the staff room with the parchments from the quiz he'd just given the second-year students tucked under his arm. There were chairs before the fire in the staff room, and Lou moved to settle into one of them comfortably before he noticed the other party seated next to him. "Good morning," he said politely. "I didn't realise I had company."
What: Staff room shenanigans, i.e., come talk to the new professor.
When: Friday morning, during the break before lunch
Where: The staff room, where anybody can be.
Warnings: None expected! We are all ladies and gentlemen.
Lou had finished his lectures for the morning. Young Slytherins and young Hufflepuffs were not a great combination immediately after breakfast, and neither were the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws that had followed. Whoever had put those Houses together for this subject had, in Lou's opinion, a rather mean sense of humour. Or perhaps a strong sense of who needed to be educated about exactly what. Had he been that difficult for his professors when he was a student? This week, Lou had frequently felt an urge to apologise to the older teachers who'd been here when he was a student. He had no idea how they'd coped. But coped they had, and cope Lou would, because he was out of options.
He came into the staff room with the parchments from the quiz he'd just given the second-year students tucked under his arm. There were chairs before the fire in the staff room, and Lou moved to settle into one of them comfortably before he noticed the other party seated next to him. "Good morning," he said politely. "I didn't realise I had company."
Sep. 11th, 2013
Thread: Viola and Milly
Who: Milton Laughton and Viola Fawcett
What: Uncle Milly and Viola need to catch up following the events of the weekend
When: Thursday evening, before dinner.
Where: The Head of Hufflepuff's suite near the dungeons
Warnings: None expected.
It had been an exceedingly long few days for Viola following the ruckus on Sunday evening. All of the children had been fetched successfully, a second mini-Sorting had been held, and the new children had been been introduced into Houses and classes on Monday as best as possible. It had not been an auspicious start to the new term. Viola had spent Monday split between dealing with upset and homesick Muggleborn children, including those terrified by their new History of Magic professor, and dealing with the upset at the Department of Magical Education and the Muggle Liaison Office. Someone's head was going to roll over this error; it had increased the difficulty of integrating the children into the school tenfold.
On the list of things Viola had meant to do was spend some time with Uncle Milly; and this she was now going to do, before the dinner hour. It would give her a chance to find out how the students in his House were doing and to find out whether word of her run-in, such as it was, with the Headmistress, had got round the school yet. Not to mention that she really did need to look in on her uncle, as she had promised her mother to do. There was an owl owing and family news to be exchanged, no doubt. Still, she had a very great deal to do before the week-end, when she would no doubt have to explain to the first-years that this school did not send children home between Friday and Monday and discuss the arrangements for taking Muggleborn students to correct churches.
She scribbled that note onto a spell-stuck parchment and put the lot away in the scroll-case she was carrying before knocking on the door of the suite of rooms belonging to the Head of Hufflepuff. Viola had been this way before, but not as a member of staff, and in any case Uncle Milly hadn't been Head of House when she'd been a student. She rapped on his door loudly, in case he couldn't hear, and then a second time, just in case. He was expecting her for tea, but it was just possible he'd lost track of the time, after all.
What: Uncle Milly and Viola need to catch up following the events of the weekend
When: Thursday evening, before dinner.
Where: The Head of Hufflepuff's suite near the dungeons
Warnings: None expected.
It had been an exceedingly long few days for Viola following the ruckus on Sunday evening. All of the children had been fetched successfully, a second mini-Sorting had been held, and the new children had been been introduced into Houses and classes on Monday as best as possible. It had not been an auspicious start to the new term. Viola had spent Monday split between dealing with upset and homesick Muggleborn children, including those terrified by their new History of Magic professor, and dealing with the upset at the Department of Magical Education and the Muggle Liaison Office. Someone's head was going to roll over this error; it had increased the difficulty of integrating the children into the school tenfold.
On the list of things Viola had meant to do was spend some time with Uncle Milly; and this she was now going to do, before the dinner hour. It would give her a chance to find out how the students in his House were doing and to find out whether word of her run-in, such as it was, with the Headmistress, had got round the school yet. Not to mention that she really did need to look in on her uncle, as she had promised her mother to do. There was an owl owing and family news to be exchanged, no doubt. Still, she had a very great deal to do before the week-end, when she would no doubt have to explain to the first-years that this school did not send children home between Friday and Monday and discuss the arrangements for taking Muggleborn students to correct churches.
She scribbled that note onto a spell-stuck parchment and put the lot away in the scroll-case she was carrying before knocking on the door of the suite of rooms belonging to the Head of Hufflepuff. Viola had been this way before, but not as a member of staff, and in any case Uncle Milly hadn't been Head of House when she'd been a student. She rapped on his door loudly, in case he couldn't hear, and then a second time, just in case. He was expecting her for tea, but it was just possible he'd lost track of the time, after all.
Sep. 8th, 2013
Who: Basil Penderel & Oscar Higgs-Quigley
Where: The courtyard
When: Half-eleven at night, Sunday, 1st September
What: Fetching a few missing Muggleborns
Oscar's protestations that - first - surely the Muggleborns could find their own way to the castle, perhaps on the morrow at a civilized hour, and - second - that shouldn't the ladies wait in the castle, while someone...earthier, Mr Blackwell perhaps...fetched the students back; not to mention - third - that they would need professors here, watching over the students already present...all fell on deaf ears. By that point, he certainly wasn't about to let the gentlewitches venture out into the dark, unescorted and unaided, so he set his arguments aside and gallantly offered to accompany one of the gentler-born sex.
His sacrifice was accepted without any notable fanfare by the headmistress and Miss Fawcett, but then as it happened, when the staff were divided into couples, they ran out of ladies. And so Oscar found himself, rather than off the hook, or accompanying Miss Fawcett or Miss Holliday across the countryside on a romantic and daring mission, given to Mr Pendleton (or something of that sort) of the library, of all people, and with his name in the ladies' column as if he were the more effeminate and dainty of the pair. Which was, looking at Mr Pendleton, entirely ridiculous.
He was not looking at Pendleton now, as the chap had seemed meek and overwhelmed by all of the evening's activities, and thus it fell to Oscar to take the lead. Pendleton was but a gentle church mouse, after all. It would be up to Bellerophon, the slayer of giants and tamer of veela, to mount a rescue of the missing children. (As little as Oscar desired to leave his comfortable rooms at Hogwarts, he had to admit he was warming up to this adventure. It had been a while since he'd been on a midnight quest.)
Instead of Pendleton, Oscar was looking at his shining beauty, his beacon of steam-powered elegance, his Gilda. "We'll take my car," Oscar announced, donning the driving scarf he had surreptitiously fetched from his room in the bustle of departing staff. "She'll have us across the country in a jiffy. I'll drive, of course. Have you ever ridden in a Muggle motorcar before?"
Where: The courtyard
When: Half-eleven at night, Sunday, 1st September
What: Fetching a few missing Muggleborns
Oscar's protestations that - first - surely the Muggleborns could find their own way to the castle, perhaps on the morrow at a civilized hour, and - second - that shouldn't the ladies wait in the castle, while someone...earthier, Mr Blackwell perhaps...fetched the students back; not to mention - third - that they would need professors here, watching over the students already present...all fell on deaf ears. By that point, he certainly wasn't about to let the gentlewitches venture out into the dark, unescorted and unaided, so he set his arguments aside and gallantly offered to accompany one of the gentler-born sex.
His sacrifice was accepted without any notable fanfare by the headmistress and Miss Fawcett, but then as it happened, when the staff were divided into couples, they ran out of ladies. And so Oscar found himself, rather than off the hook, or accompanying Miss Fawcett or Miss Holliday across the countryside on a romantic and daring mission, given to Mr Pendleton (or something of that sort) of the library, of all people, and with his name in the ladies' column as if he were the more effeminate and dainty of the pair. Which was, looking at Mr Pendleton, entirely ridiculous.
He was not looking at Pendleton now, as the chap had seemed meek and overwhelmed by all of the evening's activities, and thus it fell to Oscar to take the lead. Pendleton was but a gentle church mouse, after all. It would be up to Bellerophon, the slayer of giants and tamer of veela, to mount a rescue of the missing children. (As little as Oscar desired to leave his comfortable rooms at Hogwarts, he had to admit he was warming up to this adventure. It had been a while since he'd been on a midnight quest.)
Instead of Pendleton, Oscar was looking at his shining beauty, his beacon of steam-powered elegance, his Gilda. "We'll take my car," Oscar announced, donning the driving scarf he had surreptitiously fetched from his room in the bustle of departing staff. "She'll have us across the country in a jiffy. I'll drive, of course. Have you ever ridden in a Muggle motorcar before?"
[STAFF NOTICEBOARD]
[Note: Posted only during History of Magic classes throughout the day on Tuesday, 3rd September & Wednesday, 4th September]
Notice to all staff:
Professor Cuthbert Binns will remain on at Hogwarts to teach History of Magic throughout the school term. Professor Binns' earthly remains will be removed to his home village, where they will be quietly and respectfully interred. No mention should be made of Professor Binns' passing to the professor himself, as it would only trouble him unnecessarily. Professor Binns is enthusiastic and optimistic about the coming year, and looks forward to teaching his accustomed classes here at Hogwarts.
An apprentice is currently being sought to assist Professor Binns in any way that is needed. Any Muggleborns who are confused or perhaps frightened at their professor's state should be recommended to Miss Fawcett, our Muggleborn Liaison, who will be able to explain the situation. Other concerns should be brought directly to the office of the Headmistress.
I trust that appropriate discretion will be shown, both to Professor Binns and to others outside Hogwarts. You have my gratitude for your co-operation in this delicate and sad affair. Our sincere condolences to Professor Binns' colleagues, friends, and former students.
Ismeria McQuillen
Headmistress
Professor Cuthbert Binns will remain on at Hogwarts to teach History of Magic throughout the school term. Professor Binns' earthly remains will be removed to his home village, where they will be quietly and respectfully interred. No mention should be made of Professor Binns' passing to the professor himself, as it would only trouble him unnecessarily. Professor Binns is enthusiastic and optimistic about the coming year, and looks forward to teaching his accustomed classes here at Hogwarts.
An apprentice is currently being sought to assist Professor Binns in any way that is needed. Any Muggleborns who are confused or perhaps frightened at their professor's state should be recommended to Miss Fawcett, our Muggleborn Liaison, who will be able to explain the situation. Other concerns should be brought directly to the office of the Headmistress.
I trust that appropriate discretion will be shown, both to Professor Binns and to others outside Hogwarts. You have my gratitude for your co-operation in this delicate and sad affair. Our sincere condolences to Professor Binns' colleagues, friends, and former students.
Ismeria McQuillen
Headmistress
Sep. 7th, 2013
Thread: Lou and Martha
Who: Martha Fustlewick and Lou Parkinson
What: Looking for five small children
When: Sunday night, 1 September 1904
Where: Various locations in Southwest England
Warnings: None, one hopes, as Lou is capable of at least pretending to be a gentleman and Martha is at least capable of pretending to be a lady.
Lou had assumed that he would be dealing with last-minute preparations for his first day's classes or sorting out the unhappiness of first years in the dungeon common rooms this evening after the Sorting Feast. He had not expected to be handed a list of Muggleborn students and told to fetch five children from points south and west, nor to be assigned to an elderly witch with a worse attitude than his own to perform the deed. However, that was exactly what had happened, and now he was standing in the town of Tinworth with Madam Fustlewick and his broom, ready to take flight to the first of their assigned houses.
"I'm afraid I've never done anything quite like this before," Lou had to confess to his colleague. "In fact, while I'm sure I've met Muggles in the past, it's never been in any sort of professional situation. And certainly never one in which I'm asking a parent to trust me with the safety of their child. Do you have any experience with this kind of thing, or any particular idea of how we can go about this without breaking secrecy or getting burnt at the stake or some such?"
He refrained from complaining about the fact that there were no apparation coordinates, which was annoying. If the Ministry was going to send them flying, they could have at least provided an easier method for getting to the students than a broom. He was seriously considering popping home for the lend of a flying carpet; but he was sure the Headmistress would have another swooning fit, which Lou hoped to avoid if at all possible.
What: Looking for five small children
When: Sunday night, 1 September 1904
Where: Various locations in Southwest England
Warnings: None, one hopes, as Lou is capable of at least pretending to be a gentleman and Martha is at least capable of pretending to be a lady.
Lou had assumed that he would be dealing with last-minute preparations for his first day's classes or sorting out the unhappiness of first years in the dungeon common rooms this evening after the Sorting Feast. He had not expected to be handed a list of Muggleborn students and told to fetch five children from points south and west, nor to be assigned to an elderly witch with a worse attitude than his own to perform the deed. However, that was exactly what had happened, and now he was standing in the town of Tinworth with Madam Fustlewick and his broom, ready to take flight to the first of their assigned houses.
"I'm afraid I've never done anything quite like this before," Lou had to confess to his colleague. "In fact, while I'm sure I've met Muggles in the past, it's never been in any sort of professional situation. And certainly never one in which I'm asking a parent to trust me with the safety of their child. Do you have any experience with this kind of thing, or any particular idea of how we can go about this without breaking secrecy or getting burnt at the stake or some such?"
He refrained from complaining about the fact that there were no apparation coordinates, which was annoying. If the Ministry was going to send them flying, they could have at least provided an easier method for getting to the students than a broom. He was seriously considering popping home for the lend of a flying carpet; but he was sure the Headmistress would have another swooning fit, which Lou hoped to avoid if at all possible.
Sep. 5th, 2013
Sep. 3rd, 2013
Who: The staff of Hogwarts (open to all!)
Where: The Great Hall
When: The Sorting Feast, Sunday, 1st September
What: A few missing students
Esme's day had been such a whirlwind of activity that she'd barely had time to dress for dinner, in between settling matters with Professor Binns, overseeing the decoration of the Great Hall for the feast, and greeting parents as they arrived to deliver students to the castle. She'd met with each family and new apprentice personally, running from the Floo in her office to the drive where the coaches pulled up and back again, and, once, to the lake to meet a ship carrying in a seventh-year from overseas. They'd prepared nowhere for flying carpets to land, which was an oversight remedied in haste when the first one popped in by international portkey from India and sailed toward the castle gates. Esme envied the House-elves their apparition, which was unhindered by the wards and kept them from being quite so flustered and out of breath as she herself felt, by the time the evening was well underway.
If she was a bit more flushed now than a pale and serene headmistress ought to be, it was at least with pride that everything had gone off so well. The families had all seemed pleased, or at least held their tongues on any complaints, and she'd remembered all the names and references of the new staff members when parents had made inquiries. She had done so much talking up of the younger members of staff, in fact, that she rather felt by this point she ought to be making a percentage off their salaries as a personal representative.
But now the parents had all gone, the students had been Sorted - a good number to each House, Esme was pleased to note; she liked little better than balance - and there was little more left of the night ahead than pudding, and celebratory drinks with the staff before morning came and the term officially began. Esme had purchased a very special bottle of Vermouth Lilla flavored with anjelica, fire seed, and dirigible plum for the occasion.
There were, she was relieved to note, rather less students than she had been given to believe would be in attendance. There had been a great deal of fuss from the Ministry about an exceptionally high number of incoming Muggleborn students of all ages, which after considerable discussion and debate had eventually resulted in the appointment of Miss Fawcett to the castle. To hear the Ministry and the Board of Governors speak of it, Hogwarts would have been half-overrun with Muggleborns and charity cases, but that certainly didn't seem the case.
It didn't seem the case at all, in fact. Esme had greeted every family, she was certain of it; she had been run half-off her feet in order to accomplish the feat. She couldn't remember seeing any Muggles. Could she really not have noticed? Surely they would have said something. Perhaps the Muggle children had come on their own? Had the House-elves not summoned her because they believed Miss Fawcett to be dealing with those arrivals, and not wanted to trouble their headmistress further?
But no—she'd seen all of the children Sorted, and while she couldn't remember all of their names yet, she recognized their faces, and knew most of their families. Esme blinked a few times, and then turned, seeking out Miss Fawcett, who in accordance with her newly-created position at Hogwarts was seated a great distance down the length of the table.
It could wait, she thought. But still, some impulse caused her to smile politely and wait until she'd caught Miss Fawcett's eye and attention, and then to note - voice slightly raised above the enthusiastic chatter of the students below, although not indecorously - "It seems you may have a disappointing time with us this year, Miss Fawcett. There don't appear to be many Muggleborn students for you to integrate into castle life."
Where: The Great Hall
When: The Sorting Feast, Sunday, 1st September
What: A few missing students
Esme's day had been such a whirlwind of activity that she'd barely had time to dress for dinner, in between settling matters with Professor Binns, overseeing the decoration of the Great Hall for the feast, and greeting parents as they arrived to deliver students to the castle. She'd met with each family and new apprentice personally, running from the Floo in her office to the drive where the coaches pulled up and back again, and, once, to the lake to meet a ship carrying in a seventh-year from overseas. They'd prepared nowhere for flying carpets to land, which was an oversight remedied in haste when the first one popped in by international portkey from India and sailed toward the castle gates. Esme envied the House-elves their apparition, which was unhindered by the wards and kept them from being quite so flustered and out of breath as she herself felt, by the time the evening was well underway.
If she was a bit more flushed now than a pale and serene headmistress ought to be, it was at least with pride that everything had gone off so well. The families had all seemed pleased, or at least held their tongues on any complaints, and she'd remembered all the names and references of the new staff members when parents had made inquiries. She had done so much talking up of the younger members of staff, in fact, that she rather felt by this point she ought to be making a percentage off their salaries as a personal representative.
But now the parents had all gone, the students had been Sorted - a good number to each House, Esme was pleased to note; she liked little better than balance - and there was little more left of the night ahead than pudding, and celebratory drinks with the staff before morning came and the term officially began. Esme had purchased a very special bottle of Vermouth Lilla flavored with anjelica, fire seed, and dirigible plum for the occasion.
There were, she was relieved to note, rather less students than she had been given to believe would be in attendance. There had been a great deal of fuss from the Ministry about an exceptionally high number of incoming Muggleborn students of all ages, which after considerable discussion and debate had eventually resulted in the appointment of Miss Fawcett to the castle. To hear the Ministry and the Board of Governors speak of it, Hogwarts would have been half-overrun with Muggleborns and charity cases, but that certainly didn't seem the case.
It didn't seem the case at all, in fact. Esme had greeted every family, she was certain of it; she had been run half-off her feet in order to accomplish the feat. She couldn't remember seeing any Muggles. Could she really not have noticed? Surely they would have said something. Perhaps the Muggle children had come on their own? Had the House-elves not summoned her because they believed Miss Fawcett to be dealing with those arrivals, and not wanted to trouble their headmistress further?
But no—she'd seen all of the children Sorted, and while she couldn't remember all of their names yet, she recognized their faces, and knew most of their families. Esme blinked a few times, and then turned, seeking out Miss Fawcett, who in accordance with her newly-created position at Hogwarts was seated a great distance down the length of the table.
It could wait, she thought. But still, some impulse caused her to smile politely and wait until she'd caught Miss Fawcett's eye and attention, and then to note - voice slightly raised above the enthusiastic chatter of the students below, although not indecorously - "It seems you may have a disappointing time with us this year, Miss Fawcett. There don't appear to be many Muggleborn students for you to integrate into castle life."
Aug. 31st, 2013
Who: The staff of Hogwarts (open to all!)
Where: The Great Hall
When: Breakfast, Sunday, 1st September
What: The morning before the start of classes
Esme swept into the Great Hall of Hogwarts with the formidable momentum of a healthy woman bolstered by a corset and backed by a great deal of bustle. "Good morning," she greeted those already breakfasting - it was early yet, but preparing for the day ahead, for a lady and a headmistress, took not a little time - and claimed her seat at the center of the high table. "Have the owls come yet with the news?"
They had, of course, but if the House-elves hadn't yet had time to set them out, she would give them the benefit of a few minutes extra time, under the pretence of a flock of tardy news-birds. It was always well to do what one could for the servants.
Where: The Great Hall
When: Breakfast, Sunday, 1st September
What: The morning before the start of classes
Esme swept into the Great Hall of Hogwarts with the formidable momentum of a healthy woman bolstered by a corset and backed by a great deal of bustle. "Good morning," she greeted those already breakfasting - it was early yet, but preparing for the day ahead, for a lady and a headmistress, took not a little time - and claimed her seat at the center of the high table. "Have the owls come yet with the news?"
They had, of course, but if the House-elves hadn't yet had time to set them out, she would give them the benefit of a few minutes extra time, under the pretence of a flock of tardy news-birds. It was always well to do what one could for the servants.