Lucy secured “a girl” at last. The girl called herself “a girl,” the registry office keeper called her “a girl,” and Lucy said within herself that she could not very well call her anything else. What else was she? She had not the appearance or manner of the trained servant. She gave no sign of the habits or nature which Lucy would have rejoiced over in “a maid.” She was “a girl,” ready to do work for a wage. She was but a bundle of negations. Yet Lucy felt bound to take her, not only because time pressed, but because there was really no reason why she should reject her.
The girl gave “a reference” to a house not very far from Pelham Street. She had been servant there for two years. So Lucy locked up the little house with the verandah, took Hugh by the hand, and went off to inquire “the character” of “Jane Smith.”
The house at which her journey ended was dismally dim and genteel. It was not dirty or neglected, but it was not bright nor cared for. Jane Smith herself opened the door. It was the last day of her “notice” month.
The lady who received Mrs. Challoner was a limp faded personage who listened to Lucy’s errand with such unsmiling weariness that Lucy felt quite sorry to have disturbed her.
“Oh, Jane Smith? Well, Jane Smith is very fair—as servants go nowadays. I think she has been with me two years. She gave me notice herself. I forget why, really—some trifle it was. I thought it may be as well—for when they stay too long in one place they get careless.”
“I don’t think two years is very long, and they ought to grow more valuable the longer they stay,” said Mrs. Challoner.
“Oh, yes, of course they should, but they don’t. Two years is a very reasonable time as things are nowadays.”
“And you found her perfectly honest and truthful and reliable?” asked Lucy, who somehow felt shy in making these inquiries. It seemed to her queer that the mere fact that our servants require to earn their bread in our houses, should entitle one to ask searching questions about them such as we never ask before admitting acquaintances to our society!
“Honest? Yes, I have no reason to think her otherwise. I never missed anything, and any outlays she made always seemed correct. Truthful? Well, I never ask my servants questions, I make a point of that. I form my own conclusions about anything that happens. Reliable? Reliable?”—the lady echoed those words with significant notes of interrogation and exclamation—“I scarcely know how far you mean that word to go. I found no fault with her. I never care to get acquainted with my servants. If they do their work and give me no cause for displeasure that is enough for me.”