“Why, I happened to meet David on the way to the ‘Transcript’ office this morning. I knew that Ellen left you several days ago, so I put two and two together. Besides, my dear, I would have known for other reasons. The advertisement showed that it was written by an inexperienced housekeeper.”
“How?” asked Barbara.
“Nobody ever advertises for help in Auburn. Newspapers aren’t much good for that. If you want a girl, all you have to do is to spread the news among your acquaintances.”
“That isn’t hard, with you to help,” muttered Gassy, from the step above.
“What’s that, Cecilia? Oh, I thought you spoke to me.—And they will be on the outlook for you. It is much cheaper than advertising. How are you getting along without Ellen?”
Barbara thought of the half-done potatoes, the broken water-pitcher, and the soda-less biscuits that had been incidents of the day. But she was in no humor for a confession to Miss Bates.
“Pretty well,” she said.
“That’s good. You know so little about housework, Barbara, that I wouldn’t have been surprised if you were missing her. Not that you’re to blame for that. Lots of people set a college education above home training, nowadays. Just about noon to-day I smelled something burning, and I said to myself, ‘There goes Barbara Grafton’s dinner.’ But of course it might have come from some other kitchen. The wind came straight this way, though.”