"Where is Norah?"

"Miss Norah's in the kitchen," said the girl shortly. The Billabong
maids were no less independent than modern maids generally are, but
they had their views about the city gentleman's manner to the daughter
of the house. "On'y a bit of a kid himself," Mary had said to Sarah,
indignantly, "but any one'd think he owned the earth, an' Miss Norah
was a bit of it." So they despised Cecil exceedingly, and refrained
from shaking up his mattress when they made his bed.

"Er--you may tell her I want to speak to her."

"Can't, I'm afraid," Sarah said. "Miss Norah's very busy, 'elpin' Mrs.
Brown. She don't care to be disturbed."

"Can't she spare me a moment?"

"Wouldn't ask her to." Sarah lifted her tray--and her nose--and marched
out. Cecil looked black.

"Gad! I wish the mater had to deal with those girls!" he said
viciously--Mrs. Geoffrey Linton was of the employers who "change their
maids" with every new moon. "She'd make them sit up, I'll wager.
Abominable impertinence!" He strolled to the door, and looked out
across the garden discontentedly. "What on earth is there for a man to
do? Well, I'll hunt up the important cousin."

At the moment, Norah was quite of importance. Mrs. Brown had succumbed
to a headache earlier in the day. Norah had found her, white-faced and