“Oh, I don’t know that there’s much cleaning to do, beyond the knives,” remarked Tod. “We want our dinners cooked, you know, and the beds made. That’s about all.”
The woman smiled at that, as if she thought he knew little about it. “I have been living at the grocer’s, up yonder, sir, and they can give me a good character, though I say it. I’m not afraid of doing all you can want done, and of giving satisfaction, if you’d please to try me.”
“You’ll do,” said Tod, after glancing at me. “Can you come in at once?”
“As soon as you like, sir. When would you please to go for my character?”
“Oh, bother that!” said he. “I’ve no doubt you are all right. Can you make pigeon pies?”
“That I can, sir.”
“You’ll do then. What is your name?”
“Elizabeth Ho——”
“Elizabeth?” he interrupted, not giving her time to finish. “Why, the one just gone was Elizabeth. A grenadier, six feet high.”
“I’ve been mostly called Betty, sir.”