ucy paid no heed to her sister’s words, being diverted by another bit of by-play. “Jessie Morison’s” keen grey eyes had fallen on little Hugh, and her face had instantly broken into a smile. Could this superior, experienced, well-trained woman really want a general servant’s place?
“Yes, ma’am,” said Jessie Morison, “I’m wanting a quiet place that I could keep nice and comfortable.”
“But I have hitherto had quite a young woman,” urged Mrs. Challoner. “There are only myself and the little boy—until my husband comes home from a voyage,” she explained.
Jessie Morison pondered.
“That will suit me nicely,” she said. “Did the girl do the washing, ma’am?”
“Yes,” answered Lucy; “but——”
“I’m a capital washer,” said Jessie Morison, “and I dress well, too. I shouldn’t need help, ma’am—no, not for such a small family. I don’t like strangers coming about my kitchen, they make more work than they do.”
“We dine early,” said Lucy. “There are but few visitors. But you would have everything to do in the house; and while my husband is away, I shall not be able to give much help, as I am busy otherwise.”
“It’s not a very large house, maybe?” asked Jessie, in a pleasant tone, suggesting only that in her opinion a small house was the proper thing.
“No, it is a small house,” said Lucy. “Have you always been in service?”