The parlourmaid appeared with alacrity. It was like living in a novelette, to attend a bride who wore pink and white fineries in the morning, and looked as if she had never done a hand's turn in her life. She entered on the day's duties with a refreshing feeling of excitement. "Please 'Um, the fish-man's called." "Oh! has he? I can't attend to him now. Parsons!--your name is Parsons, isn't it?--would you kindly remember that my name is not `'Um.' It is just as easy to say Madam, and sounds far better. I want you and Marie, and cook, to come here at once, and I'll tell you what I want done to this room." "At--at once, Madam?" "Certainly, at once." "Before I clear away?" "What do you want to clear away?" "The breakfast things, Madam. And,--and the fish-man can't wait." "Tell him to call again then, later on." "He's on his rounds, Madam. He only calls the once." "The fishmonger be--" Grizel coughed audibly, remindful of responsibilities towards the young. It was borne in upon her that the moment which she had dreaded was upon her, and could no longer be escaped. The fish-man was waiting, could not wait, could not return; it therefore behoved the mistress of the household to repair to the kitchen and interview the cook. She rose from the packing case, gathered her skirts around her, and turned to the door. "Kindly go and tell Mrs Mason that I am coming!" Mrs Mason was on duty beside the kitchen table. Having heard from Parsons' lips a bated account of her lady's splendour, she also was setting forth on the day's duties with a flavour of excitement. Spread out neatly in rows were the remains of last evening's repast. Cold fish, cold cutlets, dishevelled chicken, half-eaten sweets. Grizel, who had never before been called upon to interview food in _deshabille_, turned from the sight with a shudder. "You can use those up in the kitchen." The cook acquiesced, and concealed her complaisance. "And what would you like for the room?" "In future," said Grizel firmly, "I should like the menu for the day drawn out, ready to be submitted to me every morning." "I have never been uzed--" began the cook, then her eyes met those of her mistress, and to her own amazement she found herself concluding lamely, "Of course if you wish it, 'Um, I must try! ... The fish-man is waiting for horders." "_Au diable avec le poissonnier_!" ejaculated Grizel _sotto voce_. She leant back against the corner of the dresser, the tail of her white robe folded round in front, displaying the small pink shoes to cook's appraising eyes. Her eyes roamed here and there over the kitchen, but studiously avoided the provisions on the table. From the region of the back door sounded a whistle, impatient and peremptory. The cook glanced around, glanced back at the pink and white figure standing with head on one side, leisurely regarding the arrangement of brass on the mantelpiece, and was goaded into the extreme course of making a suggestion.