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long, if you
hasten yourself. Yes, Eliza, you can have the table." Mrs. Rainham left
the room, with the children at her heels.
Cecilia whisked the lesson books hastily away; Eliza was waiting with
a lowering brow, and Eliza was by no means a person to be offended.
Maids were scarce enough in England in the months after the end of the
war; and, even in easier times, there had been a dreary procession of
arriving and departing servants in the Rainham household--the
high-spirited characteristics of the children being apt to pall quickly
upon anyone but their mother. In days when there happened to be no
Eliza, it was Cecilia who naturally inherited the vacant place, adding
the duties of house-maid to those of nurse, governess, companion and
general factotum; all exacting posts, and all of them unpaid. As Mrs.
Rainham gracefully remarked, when a girl was not earning her own
living, as so many were, but was enjoying the comfort of home, the
least she could do was to make herself useful.
"Half a minute, Eliza." She smiled at the slatternly girl. "Sorry to keep
you waiting; there's a river of ink gone astray here." She placed the
soaked cloth on the waste-paper basket and polished the top of the table

vigorously.
"I'll bet it worn't you wot spilt it--but it's you wot 'as the cleanin' up,"
muttered Eliza. "Lemme rub that up now, Miss." She put down her tray
and took the cloth from Cecilia's hand.
"Thanks, ever so, Eliza--but you've got plenty to do yourself."
"Well, if I 'ave, I ain't the on'y one wot 'as," said Eliza darkly. Her
wizened little face suddenly flushed. "Lor, Miss," she said
confidentially, "you doan't know wot a success that 'at you trimmed for
me is. It's a fair scream. I wore it larst night, an' me young man--'im
wot's in the Royal Irish--well, it fair knocked 'im! An' 'e wants me to go
out wiv 'im next Benk 'Oliday--out to 'Ampstead 'Eath. 'E never got as
far as arstin' me that before. I know it was that 'at wot done it."
"Not it, Eliza," Cecilia laughed. "It was just your hair under the hat. I
told you how pretty it would be, if you would only brush it more."
"Well, I never 'ad no brush till you give me your old one," said Eliza
practically. "I did brush it, though, a nundred times every night, till
Cook reckoned I was fair cracked. But 'air's on'y 'air, an' anyone 'as
it--it's not every one 'as an 'at like that." She clattered plates upon the
table violently. "You goin' out this awfternoon, Miss?"
"As soon as I can, Eliza." Cecilia's face fell. "I must arrange flowers
first."
"I'll 'ave the vawses all ready wiv clean water for you," said Eliza. "An'
don't you worry about the drorin'-room--I'll see as it's nice."
"Oh, you can't, Eliza--you have no time. I know it's silver- cleaning
afternoon."
"Aw, I'll squeeze it in some'ow." Eliza stopped suddenly, at a decided
footstep in the passage, and began to rattle spoons and forks with a
vigour born of long practice. Cecilia picked up the inky cloth, and went
out.

Her stepmother was standing by the hall-stand, apparently intent on
examining Wilfred's straw hat. She spoke in a low tone as the girl
passed her.
"I wish you did not find so much pleasure in gossiping with servants,
Cecilia. It is such a bad example for Avice. I have spoken about it to
you before."
Cecilia did not answer. She went upstairs with flaming cheeks, and
draped the cloth across the hand basin in the bathroom, turning the tap
vengefully. A stream of water flowed through the wide stain.
"There's more real kindness in that poor little Cockney's finger than
there is in your whole body!" Cecilia whispered, apparently addressing
the unoffending cloth--which, having begun life as a dingy green and
black, did not seem greatly the worse for its new decoration. "Hateful
old thing!" A smile suddenly twitched the corners of her mouth. "Well,
she can't stop the money for a new cloth out of this quarter's allowance,
because I've just got it. That's luck, anyhow. I'll give it to Bob to keep,
in case she goes through my desk again." She poured some ammonia
upon the stain, and rubbed gingerly, surveying the result with a tilted
nose. It was not successful. "Shall I try petrol? But petrol's an awful
price, and I've only got the little bottle I use for my gloves. Anyhow,
the horrible old cloth is so old and thin that it will fall to pieces if I rub
it. Oh, it's no use bothering about it--nothing will make it better." She
squeezed the water from the cloth and spread the stained area over a
chair