Mrs. Barraclough was one of those old ladies who are constantly being surprised. She courted surprise. She never forestalled a climax and of the hundreds of sensational novels which she so greedily devoured never once was she guilty of taking a premature peep at the last chapter to ensure herself that right would triumph. "I shall find out all about it in good time" was the motto she affected. This being so she made no effort to secure Isabel's confidence but simply waited for Isabel to speak. The same reticence possessed her in the matter of the four mysterious serving girls. She hadn't the smallest idea why Anthony had suddenly transformed himself into a domestic agency although, at the back of her head, she guessed at a deep underlying motive. It gratified her beyond measure to be surrounded by unfathomed waters and frequently as a corollary to her prayers she would thank God for the little excitements and mysteries He sent to flavour her declining years. After the uncontrollable rush of tears on her arrival Isabel pulled herself together and made a show of gaiety and preserved it nobly for nearly three weeks. Anthony had gone and gloomy forebodings were of no service. Accordingly she helped Mrs. Barraclough in the garden and made the very best friends of the four girls. Perhaps she was the least bit resentful on finding out that they knew almost as much of Anthony's plans as she herself. "But did he tell you?" she asked in surprise. "It's like this," said Flora who generally spoke for the company. "Jane and myself were with him in the Secret Service during the last year of the war." "He got us the job," Jane interpolated. She was a big, bonny girl with broad shoulders, steady blue eyes and a complexion that would have advertised any health resort. "Cook kicks herself that she wasn't in that show." It was at this point Mrs. Barraclough came into the room. "Kicks herself! What a very unbecoming expression, Jane." "Sorry, madam," said Jane and she and Flora sniggered uncontrollably. "You girls perplex me greatly," said Mrs. Barraclough. "You do not laugh in the least like ordinary servants." "How do ordinary servants laugh?" Jane asked. "Generally speaking, in a high note that echoes distressingly throughout the house, whereas you laugh like young ladies." "Oh, you old darling," exclaimed Flora with sudden impulsiveness. "I suppose if a decent education and upbringing counts for anything that's just what we are." Mrs. Barraclough sat down rather abruptly on a small upright sofa in the centre of the room. "Then for goodness sake tell me what you are doing in my kitchen." There was no escaping the explanation especially when Isabel contributed: "Come on, Flora, out with it." "It's this way, madam. Lots of us went broke after the war--lots of us who'd only fifty quid a year to live on." "Quid?" said Mrs. Barraclough. "Isn't that something to do with sailors and tobacco?"