COOK beams.

MRS MARCH. [Impatiently] Nothing of the sort, Cook; it's a question of
common sense.

COOK. Yes, ma'am.

MRS MARCH. That girl, Faith Bly, wants to come here as parlour-maid.
Absurd!

MARCH. You know her story, Cook? I want to give the poor girl a chance.
Mrs March thinks it's taking chances. What do you say?

COCK. Of course, it is a risk, sir; but there! you've got to take 'em
to get maids nowadays. If it isn't in the past, it's in the future. I
daresay I could learn 'er.

MRS MARCH. It's not her work, Cook, it's her instincts. A girl who
smothered a baby that she oughtn't to have had--

MR MARCH. [Remonstrant] If she hadn't had it how could she have
smothered it?

COOK. [Soothingly] Perhaps she's repented, ma'am.

MRS MARCH. Of course she's repented. But did you ever know repentance
change anybody, Cook?

COOK. [Smiling] Well, generally it's a way of gettin' ready for the