“But I don’t want to be a servant,” wailed Maud. “Servants have to eat in the kitchen, and sometimes they don’t have any dessert. I want to go home, even if we are going to have a stepmother. I don’t believe stepmothers are as bad as having to be servants, and eat in the kitchen.”
“Stepmothers are horrid,” declared Molly, with conviction. “Besides, we don’t want to be burdens any longer. Do stop crying, Maud, and let’s begin to look for a situation. I think it’s going to be rather good fun.”
Thus urged, Maud—who was really a cheerful little soul—choked back a rising sob and dried her eyes. Just then the church clock, over their heads, boomed forth eight strokes, and Dulcie rose.
“Come along,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll stop at any of these houses. It will be nicer out in the country.”
The others sighed wearily, but made no objections. It was the beginning of a very hot day, and already the sun felt uncomfortably warm.
“If we can’t get any milk, I don’t think soda-water would be so bad, after all,” remarked Molly, suddenly. “Let’s go back to that drug-store.” But Daisy—who had decided ideas as to the fitness of things—would not listen to this suggestion. Cake for breakfast was bad enough, but soda-water at eight o’clock in the morning—the thing was unheard of.
“It would make us all sick,” she assured them, “and then what could we do? Nobody would take sick people to work for them.”
That argument proved unanswerable, and Molly and Maud were forced to submit to remaining thirsty for the present. A few minutes’ walk brought them to the end of the village street, and they turned into a shady, grass-grown road, which was much pleasanter. Instinctively the children’s spirits began to rise.
“There’s a lovely house,” exclaimed Molly, coming to a sudden standstill beside some iron gates. “Couldn’t we ask there?”
Dulcie hesitated. Truth to tell, now that the moment had arrived for putting her wonderful scheme into operation, she was beginning to feel decidedly nervous and uncomfortable.