to detect disorder and from which no speck of dust could hope to
conceal itself, there remained a trace of that grimness which he
had detected at the moment of her entrance. In short, she was
still bristling from a recent encounter. So much so that
detecting something sympathetic in Harley's smile she availed
herself of the presence of a badly arranged vase of flowers to
linger and to air her grievances.

"Servants in these times," she informed him, her fingers busily
rearranging the blooms, "are not what servants were in my young
days."

"Unfortunately, that is so," Harley agreed.

The old lady tossed her head. "I do my best," she continued, "but
that girl would not have stayed in the house for one week if I
had had my way. Miss Phil is altogether too soft-hearted. Thank
goodness, she goes to-morrow, though."

"You don't refer to Miss Phil?" said Harley, intentionally
misunderstanding.

"Gracious goodness, no!" exclaimed the housekeeper, and laughed
with simple glee at the joke. "I mean Jones, the new parlourmaid.
When I say new, they are all new, for none of them stay longer
than three months."

"Indeed," smiled Harley, who perceived that the old lady was
something of a martinet.