"I should like her," said Phyllis. "Their hands are the one thing against Generals. She must be a nice girl to take such care of them. Think how careful she'd be with the china. What's 'trd.'?"
"I'm afraid it must mean tired," I said.
"Oh, she'd soon get rested here," said Phyllis; "I don't think that need be against her. She's probably been in a hard place lately. Are there any more?"
"Plenty," I said. "How does this one strike you?—'General. no bacon. possess. 2 rms. £45 wky. s.a.v.'"
"I like that one," said Phyllis. "She must be an awfully unselfish girl to go without bacon. I don't see how we are going to spare two rooms, though, unless she's willing to count the kitchen as one. Forty-five pounds a week must be a printer's error. But we can easily afford forty-five pounds a year."
"It may mean that she's 'weakly,'" I suggested.
"That wouldn't matter much," said Phyllis; "and I like her the better for being honest about it."
"'Wky.' might stand for 'whisky,'" I hinted darkly.
Phyllis blanched. "Then she's no good," she said; "I simply couldn't stand one that drinks. What's the next one like?"
I read on: "Domestic oil no risk. 6 dys. trd. s. hands 10 yrs. s.a.v."