By the time she had reached the veranda, Mignon had rung the door bell. A moment and it was answered by a young woman whose blue bungalow apron and dust cap marked her as maid of all work. “Good afternoon,” she said politely. To Marjorie she appeared a trifle embarrassed. “She must be a new maid,” was her first thought. “I wonder if Hulda has left the Archers.” As a frequent guest at Miss Archer’s, Marjorie had always delighted in Hulda, the good-natured Swedish maid. Impulsively she asked with a winning smile, “Isn’t Hulda here any more?”
“Hulda!” The young woman stared curiously at Marjorie, then replied quickly. “She will be here next week. I am trying to take her place until she comes.” A faint flickering smile touched the corners of her red lips as she said this.
“Kindly tell Miss Archer that Miss La Salle and Miss Dean are here” broke in Mignon haughtily. She had already decided that, for a servant, this girl appeared to feel herself above her position. It was partially Marjorie’s fault. It was always a mistake to treat a servant as an equal.
The maid favored Mignon with another strange, inscrutable glance. “Miss La Salle and Miss Dean,” she repeated. “Please come into the drawing room. I will tell Miss Archer that you are here.” Politely ushering them into the long, cool drawing room, the maid obsequiously bowed them to seats and vanished.
“What a pretty girl,” was Marjorie’s first remark when they were left to themselves. “She had such lovely golden brown hair and big gray eyes.”
“I didn’t notice. All maids look alike to me,” shrugged Mignon. “I thought she was altogether too presuming for a servant.”
“I thought she was sweet,” came Marjorie’s earnest reply. She had taken an instantaneous liking to the new maid. “After all, we’re just human beings, you know, and free and equal. Why, Delia is as much a part of our home as I am.”
“It’s very unwise to give servants too much liberty,” disagreed Mignon loftily. “Every one of ours has to keep his or her place. I see to that. My father is quite apt to let them do as they please. It takes me to manage them.”
Marjorie felt a strong return of her ancient dislike for Mignon sweep over her. Quickly she conquered it, adroitly turning the conversation into a more pleasant channel. It was at least ten minutes before the maid reappeared in the wide curtained doorway. Announcing that Miss Archer would be with them directly, she nodded almost curtly and disappeared.
“Good afternoon, Marjorie. I am very glad to see you again,” was the principal’s cordial salutation as she entered the room. “How do you do, Mignon?” Although she gave the French girl her hand, there was an almost imperceptible reserve in her greeting. To her, Mignon’s call was as unexpected as her sudden decision to pay it had been to Marjorie. “You must excuse the unsettled appearance of things. We have not yet found time to take the covers off most of the furniture. When we left for the West, I sent Hulda off on a visit to her father and mother. She will not return until next week. Fortunately, my sister and I have Veronica to help us.”