“You didn’t leave Margy alone?” demanded Edna’s mother.
“Almost,” said Edna. “Only a—a servant.”
“Oh, you keep a nurse girl, too,” said Polly. “I thought Edna didn’t look as if she did any of her own work.”
“Yes, I have a—a girl, in addition to the cook,” replied Edna, flushing as she thus denied three of her five servants—flushing not because of the denial, but because in her confession she had almost forgotten about the numerous excuses based on the cook. “Godfrey has been doing very well, and we felt we could afford it.”
“Better get rid of her,” advised old Willie sourly. “And of the cook, too. Servant girls is mighty wasteful.”
“And she’ll teach Margy badness,” said my mother. “Them servants is full of poison. Even if yer pa’d had money I’d never have allowed no servant round my children, no more’n a snake in the cradle. I hope she’s a good Christian, and not a Catholic?”
“She’s all right,” declared Edna nervously. “But we’ll have to be going soon.”
“Yes; that there girl might git drunk,” said Mrs. Wheatlands.
“And set fire to the house maybe,” said my mother. “I heard of a case just last week.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that,” cried Edna, her tones of protest more like jubilation. “I’ll be wretched until I’m home again.”