“Well, I’m bringing it,” came from the head, crossly, and the door was closed with a bang.
“Oh, them girls!” said Mrs. Railing. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth, and that’s the truth. The number of girls I’ve ’ad--well, I couldn’t count ’em. They eat you out of ’ouse and ’ome, and they’re always grumbling, and you ’ave to pay ’em five shillings now--they won’t come for less--and they’re not worth it. I ’ave to do all the work meself. And they’re that particular in their eating, I never see anything like it. They must ’ave the best of everything, just the same as we ’ave, if you please.”
Mrs. Railing’s red face grew redder still as she described the tribulations which attend the mistress of servants.
“She broke another plate to-day, Bertie,” she said. “I shall give ’er notice this week. If she stays ’ere much longer I shan’t ’ave a plate in the ’ouse.”
There was a knock at the door, with a clatter of cups, and Mrs. Railing opened it. A tall gaunt woman carefully brought in the tray with the tea things. She wore a bonnet and a shabby cloak, decorated with black beads.
“Oh, you’ve not brought it yourself, Mrs. Cooper!” cried Mrs. Railing, hastily taking the tray from her. “Why didn’t you let the girl bring it? What’s she here for? And I pay ’er five shillings a week.”
Mrs. Cooper gave Winnie an inquisitive look and turned to go.
“I know where I’m not wanted, Mrs. Railing,” replied the other, with a sour glance at Bertram.
“Now don’t say that, Mrs. Cooper. _You_ don’t want ’er to go, Bertie, do you?”
“I should be pleased if you’d stay and have tea, Mrs. Cooper,” said Bertram, driven into a corner.
“I’ve ’ad ’im in me arms many a time when ’e was a baby,” said Mrs. Cooper, with a defiant glare at Bertram. “An’ I’ve bath’d ’im.”
Mrs. Railing stirred the tea, put milk in each cup, and poured out.
“I ’ope you won’t mind if it’s not very grand,” said she to Winnie, apologetically.
“Not the Queen of England could make a better cup of tea than you, Mrs. Railing,” replied Mrs. Cooper, sitting down with a certain aggressiveness.
“Well, I ’ave got a silver tea-pot,” said Mrs. Railing, smiling proudly. “Bertie and Louie gave it me only last week for me birthday.”
“I don’t know why you call it silver, when it’s not ’all-marked, Mrs. Railing,” she said.