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.
"Indeed, they don't. Think they are ladies nowadays. Four hours
off has that girl had to-day, although she was out on Wednesday.
Then she has the impudence to allow someone to ring her up here
at the house; and finally I discover her upsetting the table
after Benson had laid it and after I had rearranged it."
She glanced indignantly in the direction of the lobby.
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