"What I propose, Tommy--I mean Jane," said Peter, "is that we
should get in a woman to do just the mere cooking. That will give
you more time to--to attend to other things, Tommy--Jane, I mean."

"What other things?" chin in the air.

"The--the keeping of the rooms in order, Tommy. The--the dusting."

"Don't want twenty-four hours a day to dust four rooms."

"Then there are messages, Tommy. It would be a great advantage to
me to have someone I could send on a message without feeling I was
interfering with the housework."

"What are you driving at?" demanded Tommy. "Why, I don't have half
enough to do as it is. I can do all--"

Peter put his foot down. "When I say a thing, I mean a thing. The
sooner you understand that, the better. How dare you argue with
me! Fiddle-de-dee!" For two pins Peter would have employed an
expletive even stronger, so determined was he feeling.

Tommy without another word left the room. Peter looked at
Elizabeth and winked.

Poor Peter! His triumph was short-lived. Five minutes later,
Tommy returned, clad in the long, black skirt, supported by the
cricket belt, the blue garibaldi cut decollete, the pepper-and-salt
jacket, the worsted comforter, the red lips very tightly pressed,