"But she didn't keep me in," retorted Emma warmly. "She said I could go out as usual; but poor little Ethel cried so when she saw me with my bonnet on, that I said I would stay in. And I know mistress was glad enough about it; for she was able to go and lie down and get an hour's rest, while I kept the children quiet in the nursery."
"Well, Emma Russell, you are a muff! Anybody may know it's your first place!" exclaimed Lizzie scornfully. "To think of taking your things off after you had got ready to go out, and sitting down to mind a pack of cross children. Well, it's what I wouldn't do."
"Well, I would; and I'll do it again next Sunday if they don't get better."
"Oh! I daresay you'll do it every Sunday in future," said Lizzie with a short mocking laugh, "your mistress will take care of that, never fear. If you stop at home one Sunday, she'll think you can stay every Sunday."
"No, she won't," replied Emma. "And if she did, I'd rather put up with it than have the poor children crying for me as soon as my back was turned."
"Pack of rubbish! Let them cry, and let their mother quiet them," said Lizzie. "I tell you what it is, Emma,—it is girls like you who spoil places, and make mistresses expect so much of girls. I know—I've seen it."
Her companion laughed. "One would think you had been out at service ten years instead of ten months," she said.
"I've seen enough in ten months, though, to sicken me of service; and I don't mean to put up with it much longer."
"What are you going to do then, Lizzie?" asked her companion in some curiosity.
"Oh! I don't know yet; but I shan't stay in service much longer. Are you going back to your place now? Because we may as well walk together if you are, and I can tell you what I've been thinking of."