"I've met your type before," she said coldly. "For some reason you seem to think that you have a standing here as 'the old friend of the family.' But I don't make friends quickly, and I haven't given you the privilege of being so"--she wanted to say "insolent," but the word eluded her--"so personal with me." When the front door had closed behind him, Luella went into the kitchen to see if the woman understood about the three different dinners--one for Charles, one for the baby, and one for herself. It was hard to do with only a single servant when things were so complicated. She must try another employment agency--this one had begun to sound bored. To her surprise, she found the cook with hat and coat on, reading a newspaper at the kitchen table. "Why"--Luella tried to think of the name--"why, what's the matter, Mrs.----" "Mrs. Danski is my name." "What's the matter?" "I'm afraid I won't be able to accommodate you," said Mrs. Danski. "You see, I'm only a plain cook, and I'm not used to preparing invalid's food." "But I've counted on you." "I'm very sorry." She shook her head stubbornly. "I've got my own health to think of. I'm sure they didn't tell me what kind of a job it was when I came. And when you asked me to clean out your husband's room, I knew it was way beyond my powers." "I won't ask you to clean anything," said Luella desperately. "If you'll just stay until to-morrow. I can't possibly get anybody else to-night." Mrs. Danski smiled politely. "I got my own children to think of, just like you." It was on Luella's tongue to offer her more money, but suddenly her temper gave way. "I've never heard of anything so selfish in my life!" she broke out. "To leave me at a time like this! You're an old fool!" "If you'd pay me for my time, I'd go," said Mrs. Danski calmly. "I won't pay you a cent unless you'll stay!" She was immediately sorry she had said this, but she was too proud to withdraw the threat. "You will so pay me!" "You go out that door!" "I'll go when I get my money," asserted Mrs. Danski indignantly. "I got my children to think of." Luella drew in her breath sharply, and took a step forward. Intimidated by her intensity, Mrs. Danski turned and flounced, muttering, out of the door. Luella went to the phone and, calling up the agency, explained that the woman had left. "Can you send me some one right away? My husband is sick and the baby's sick----" "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hemple; there's no one in the office now. It's after four o'clock." Luella argued for a while. Finally she obtained a promise that they would telephone to an emergency woman they knew. That was the best they could do until to-morrow. She called several other agencies, but the servant industry had apparently ceased to function for the day. After giving Charles his medicine, she tiptoed softly into the nursery. "How's baby?" she asked abstractedly. "Ninety-nine one," whispered the nurse, holding the thermometer to the light. "I just took it."