"Oh!" said the Atom, recognising "blouse" now, but too polite to explain.
"No," pursued Sarah, "I'm the worker of the fambly!"
The Atom eyed her gravely.
"You're not very big and strong, are you?" she queried doubtfully.
"Oh, there's a lot of work in me, miss, more'n you'd think. I can go on and on, you see. Why," proudly, "lots o' times when my back's just aching all over and my legs and feet too, I can work just as well as hever!"
"That's spunk, Sarah," said Denis's voice round the door.
"Oh, sir! Oh, Mr. Denis!" Sarah, in her confusion, let fall a plate. "Oh!" she cried, "four pieces! Oh!" She wrung her hands.
Denis laughed.
"My fault, Sarah; put it down to me."
But the poor little maid-of-all-work had no smile left in her; her sharp little face was puckered and drawn into ludicrous lines of woe; tears stood in her pale eyes. "'Alf a crown at least!" she moaned beneath her breath. "I'd never match it under!"