"So you would like to work here?" she said, as Daisy sat plumply down, cupped her elbow in her palm, and tucked her hand, knuckles outward, beneath her chin.
"I guess so," said Daisy, looking around.
"Have you—have you references?"
"What?" said Daisy.
"A—references—letters from somebody for whom you have worked for," Lady Harrison, pressed by Sir Thomas to acquire social diction, occasionally used a preposition too many.
"I never worked in town," said Daisy, "but I—but I—," it was an effort for Daisy Nixon to add anything savoring of concession, "I will do as well as I can—for you."
"That's very nice." The social phrase slipped out by chance, this time, in its proper place. "But my hus— but Sir Thomas Harrison may require references. He generally does."
Daisy's face, in spite of her native trait of unconcern, fell a little. She had set her heart upon working in this lady's house.
"Never mind, though, dearie," said Lady Martha Harrison, quickly, as she noted the girl's look of disappointment; "Girls are not very easy to get, in town here, and I think, if you turn out real smart and handy—as I'm sure you will—that he—ur, that Sir Thomas—will give you a trial."