“Your kitchenmaid looks hardly up to her work, chef.”
“Oh, she is all right,” he replied. “She has not been in a situation just lately and she is a bit soft.”
The reply was satisfactory, and, being a busy woman, the manageress went on with her orders.
Next morning she was again strongly attracted by her new little kitchenmaid, who was busy in the scullery washing dishes. The girl was so ladylike in appearance, so delightful in manner, so charming in voice, her superior felt that there was something unusual, even wrong, about the matter; so she searched for the original letter from the chef to see under what conditions the underling had been engaged. It said that, as he preferred to work with his own kitchenmaid, he wished to bring her with him, more especially as she was now his wife.
Some days went on, and the little maid looked paler each morning, sadder and more depressed. At last a tap came at the manageress’s door, and the girl, in her cotton frock, white apron, neat hair and dainty cap, was standing on the threshold.
“May I come in, madam?” asked the plaintive voice.
“Yes, certainly; come along. Are you not well?”
“Oh yes, I am quite well, but I want to know if you will do me a favour. I have got a cheque for ten pounds from a lady whose service I used to be in, and I want to know if you will change it for me without letting my husband know.”
The manageress looked up, surprised.
“Yes, I can change it; but how does this lady come to be sending you such a big cheque?” (As she took it in her hand she saw a well-known name upon it.)