“We might, but the servants would not.”
Then it was that Cecilly had cried out, “Send the servants away. I am sure we could manage without them.”
Jack was as indignant with Cecilly as with Bob, but she would not be quieted.
“Listen to me and hear reason,” she cried. “We must have money somehow, and here is a way of getting it, or saving it, which is the same thing. Cook’s wages are £20 a year, Ann’s are £16. So in three months we should save £9. Nine hard sovereigns—not counting their keep. Oh, Kitty, what is their keep?”
“Quite ten shillings a week each, not counting their washing,” I answered.
“And we should save the kitchen fire, except when we are cooking,” said Cecilly.
“And the gas,” said Phil. “They flare it away at every burner. I turned it out myself in the scullery last night.”
“We should be able to live much more economically, of course,” I said. “One dinner instead of the two we always have to cook now, must be a saving in every way. Oh, Cecilly, what a splendid idea yours is.”
“It is all rubbish,” said Jack. “Is it likely mother and father would allow you girls to turn into slaves?”
But Cecilly would not be silenced, and if she had her will would have rushed off into the kitchen and dismissed the servants there and then. She was up quite early and off to the stores to buy two or three books she had seen advertised on the subject of “How to manage without servants.” But, as I have said before, the authors had all been able to spend the servants’ wages for a year in labour-saving contrivances. Poor Cecilly had been so excited and hopeful the evening before that she could not endure facing all the difficulties the morning laid before her.