Her tone was not rude, but it was firm. She had apparently reconnoitred her position in calmness.
“I’m sorry I was obliged to correct you this morning,” said Sophia, with cheerful amicableness, pleased in spite of herself with the woman’s tone. “But I think you will see that I had reason to.”
“I’ve been thinking it over, m’m,” said Amy, with dignity, “and I see as I must leave.”
There was a pause.
“Well, you know best.... Good night, Amy.”
“Good night, m’m.”
“She’s a decent woman,” thought Sophia, “but hopeless for this place now.”
The sisters were fronted with the fact that Constance had a month in which to find a new servant, and that a new servant would have to be trained in well-doing and might easily prove disastrous. Both Constance and Amy were profoundly disturbed by the prospective dissolution of a bond which dated from the seventies. And both were decided that there was no alternative to the dissolution. Outsiders knew merely that Mrs. Povey’s old servant was leaving. Outsiders merely saw Mrs. Povey’s advertisement in the Signal for a new servant. They could not read hearts. Some of the younger generation even said superiorly that old-fashioned women like Mrs. Povey seemed to have servants on the brain, etc., etc.
II
“Well, have you got your letter?” Sophia demanded cheerfully of Constance when she entered the bedroom the next morning.