"He got us the job," Jane interpolated. She was a big, bonny girl with broad shoulders, steady blue eyes and a complexion that would have advertised any health resort. "Cook kicks herself that she wasn't in that show."
It was at this point Mrs. Barraclough came into the room.
"Kicks herself! What a very unbecoming expression, Jane."
"Sorry, madam," said Jane and she and Flora sniggered uncontrollably.
"You girls perplex me greatly," said Mrs. Barraclough. "You do not laugh in the least like ordinary servants."
"How do ordinary servants laugh?" Jane asked.
"Generally speaking, in a high note that echoes distressingly throughout the house, whereas you laugh like young ladies."
"Oh, you old darling," exclaimed Flora with sudden impulsiveness. "I suppose if a decent education and upbringing counts for anything that's just what we are."
Mrs. Barraclough sat down rather abruptly on a small upright sofa in the centre of the room.
"Then for goodness sake tell me what you are doing in my kitchen."