If a fluffy little kitten, chasing a ball of yarn, had suddenly turned around and attacked Janice, tooth and nail, the girl would have been no more surprised.
"Why, Delia, I am sorry if I frightened you," Janice said. "But, you know, this is not your part of the house; and having put on the vegetables, even if it is too early, I should think you would remain in the kitchen and watch the pots."
The giantess arose and wiped an eye. She sniveled into the corner of her apron.
"Well, I didn't expect to be bossed by a child," she squeaked, "when I came to work here. I don't like it."
She flounced out of the room, leaving the piano open and the rolls strewn about.
"Oh, dear me! Now I have done it!" groaned Janice Day. "What will Daddy say if I have got Delia mad, and she goes? It is just awful!"
It really did seem to be a tragic situation. Janice shook her head and looked around the room. Everything was just as it had been the night before when they went to bed, save the opened music cabinet and littered piano.
There were daddy's cigar ashes in the tray; a cup with tea grounds in it as he had left it by his elbow. The smoking stand was not tidied nor the table. There was dust on everything, and a litter of torn papers on the rug.
Why had Delia not cleaned up the room, if she had so much time to play the piano?
"I suppose if I ask her why she did not sweep and dust in here she will tell me that she forgot whether I said to use the blue dustcloth or the pink," groaned Janice.