The man's face paled. Miss Peckham did not know how much she was adding to the burden of sorrow in the hearts of Broxton Day and his little daughter. Janice was sobbing now, with her face hidden.
"What you need is an intelligent woman to take hold," went on the neighbor, warming to her subject. "Take this creature you got now. Ugh! Big elephant, and don't scarcely know enough to come in when it rains, I do believe."
"The class of people one finds at the agencies is admittedly not of a high order of intelligence," said Mr. Day softly.
"I should say they weren't—if them you've had is samples," sniffed Miss Peckham. "Why don't you get somebody decent?"
"I wish you would tell me how to go about getting a better houseworker," sighed Mr. Day.
"Get a working housekeeper—one that's trained and is respectable. Somebody to overlook—"
"But I cannot afford two servants," the man hastened to submit.
"I ain't suggesting another servant. Somebody that respects herself too much to be called a servant. Of course it's hard to find the right party.
"However, some women can do it. And that is the kind you need, Broxton Day. Somebody who will be firm with your girl, here, too."
"I am afraid," said Janice's father quietly, "that the sort of person you speak of is beyond my means; perhaps such a marvel is not in the market at all," and he