Clara, the little maid-of-all-work, is sleepily laying the kitchen fire. Her dirty apron has a great "jag" all across the front, and her tumbled cap is set all askew on her mass of dusty-looking hair.
"What, the fire not alight yet? Really, Clara, this is too bad. How can you expect to get through your day's work well when you begin it so badly! Now just get that kettle to boil as soon as possible, and I'll prepare the porridge and haddock.
"And, Clara, your face is as smutty as anything. Why don't you wash it properly? And your hair's just dreadful."
Clara tosses her head indignantly, and mutters something about "never having time for anything in this house."
"There's plenty of time for everything; it's all because you manage so badly," says Betty severely. "Where's the porridge-pot? Not cleaned; how shameful! And here's the frying-pan with all the fat in it. How can you expect to be ready in time at this rate?"
Clara mutters that "Everything would be right enough if some folks would let her alone."
Betty takes no notice of this just now, for Lucy appearing at this moment, she orders her off upstairs to wash and dress the younger children.
By dint of a great deal of most energetic bustling on Betty's part, and sulky help from Clara, the breakfast is actually ready by eight o'clock, and the boys and younger girls sent off to school in good time. Betty feels greatly elated. "What a difference already!" she thinks.
And father, coming in for breakfast, she hurries down to the kitchen for his fish and tea.
Returning with the tray, she meets her mother coming downstairs.