She walked to the mantel-piece, and ran her forefinger down one of them. The finger grew black as with anger; her brow darkened.
“Why, Amy is worse than Jane!” she cried, harshly. “I won’t stand any more of her nonsense. Do you know what she did last week?” Here she walked back to the door and shut it tightly, lest her words should reach the kitchen. “She washed the colored things in the same water as the whites. And then, after the wash, I missed a pair of Billy’s red socks, and I hunted high and low for them, and made a fuss. The next day Billy found them mysteriously mixed up with his flannels. I am convinced she stole them, not knowing she had a sharp eye to deal with. I know they’ll worry me into the grave, these servants. This morning I particularly said to her, ‘Have you dusted the drawing-room?’ and she said, bold as brass, ‘Yes, mum.’ And this is what she calls dusting.” She held up her gloomy forefinger. Then, lowering her voice as if it might penetrate even through the closed door, she hissed menacingly at the brothers—“I’ll give her a piece of my mind, that I will. If she don’t know when she’s got a good place, the great hulking brute, she shall pack herself off this very afternoon. A charwoman I give her every Monday to help her; two shillings I have to pay and her beer money, to say nothing of the work I do with my own hands. Often and often I make the beds myself, for there isn’t a girl in creation you can trust to shake out the bedding, they leave it all lumpy. And what is the reward for all my kindness? I hate them all; I wish their necks were screwed.”
“I wish they were,” said Billy, impatiently. “I’m sick of hearing about them.”
Rosina turned upon him again. “And who asks you to stay here? I’m sure I’m sick of hearing you grumbling and whining about the house.”
Billy’s eyes blazed. A red spot burned in each white cheek.
“Won’t you give me a cup of tea, Rosina?” interposed Matthew, gently.
“I dare say Amy has let the fire go out,” she snapped. “Ring the bell, you’re nearest it.”
Matthew rang the bell, and Amy appeared.
“Can you make some tea, Amy?” Rosina inquired, in sweet, seductive accents.
“Yes, mum.”