and strong soda-water.

She decided that the back kitchen could not be cleaned this
afternoon. She put on her bungalow apron and took the salad from
the icebox where it had lain on the ice in a cheesecloth bag.
She usually prepared the salad herself, for daddy was fond of it
and most of the itinerant help they had had considered "grass
only fit for horses and cows."

She was decanting the oil, drop by drop, into the salad dressing
when Delia appeared in the kitchen. There was one good point
about the giantess; her face and hands looked as though they were
familiar with soap and water. She had removed the ruffled
monstrosity and had put on a more simple frock. It did not serve
to make her look less ungainly; but nevertheless it, likewise,
was clean.

"Are you doing the cooking?" asked the new incumbent, her weak,
squeaky voice quite above high C. "An' do I help you?"

"I am fixing the salad because my father likes it prepared in a
certain way. I will show you what, else there is to do, Delia."

Janice spoke in rather a grown-up way because she had had so much
experience with a class of houseworkers only too willing to take
advantage of her youth and inexperience.

"Isn't that nice!" sighed Delia, with her rather, foolish smile.

Janice wondered whether the woman was making fun of her, or if