The girl in her enthusiasm had built the fire three-quarters of the way up the chimney, though the day was muggy and warm beyond all telling. Into the heart of the blaze we stuffed large pieces of fish, which burned with a blue and oily flame.
‘Now ring,’ said Helen.
The girl returned after a long pause.
‘Please ‘m, Mrs. Watkins hasn’t a housemaid to send, by reason of so much illness. But she can send a cook,’ she said, and her face fell.
‘It’s such a pity, when you can cook so well,’ said Helen; ‘but we must have somebody. You can’t do all the work.’
‘A char and I could manage, ‘m,’ she said, changing the plates with an awful clatter.
‘Oh, not with Mr. Legs ill,’ said Helen. ‘We shall have you knocked up next, and where should we be then?’
The radiant smile returned to the girl’s face.
‘Give me some steak, Jack,’ said Helen, ‘and a potato. How delicious it smells!’
The Awful Thing again left the room, leaving, as it were, the fragrance of her smile behind her.