“Why, just help look after the kiddies. I’m sure you love children, now don’t you?--and perhaps make a dainty cake or two for afternoon tea, if Mrs. Woolley’s busy, or do a bit of sewing for her--and keep the doctor amused in the evening if she has to go up early.” It was the last item that decided Elsie. “I don’t mind,” she said in her usual formula of acceptance. Mrs. Williams was delighted. “I’m going to write off this very evening,” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “Horace and I have to go out now, but I shan’t forget. It’ll be a lovely chance for you, dear.” Elsie rather enjoyed telling her mother and Geraldine that evening that “Mrs. Williams was wild” to secure her services for a lady friend of hers, who had a lovely house at Hampstead. “This Mrs. Woolley is delicate, and she wants a young lady to help her. Of course, there’s a servant for the work of the house.” “If she’s counting on you to help her, the same as you’ve helped your poor mother since you left school, she’s got a disappointment in store,” said Mrs. Palmer grimly. “I don’t know that I’d let you go, even if you get the chance.” In the end, Geraldine, who wanted the top bedroom to herself, and who thought that Elsie, and the problem of Elsie’s behaviour, were occupying too much attention, persuaded Mrs. Palmer that it would never do to offend the Williamses. “Besides,” she argued, “it’ll be one less to feed here, and we can easily move her bed into the second-floor back room and use it, if we want to put up an extra gentleman any time.” Mrs. Palmer gave in, contingent on a personal interview with Mrs. Woolley. This was arranged through Mrs. Williams. She one day ushered into the dining-room of No. 15 a large, showily-dressed woman, who might have been any age between thirty-eight and forty-five. Her rings, and her light, smart dress impressed Elsie, and her suggestion of paying twenty-five pounds a year for Elsie’s services satisfied Mrs. Palmer. “My hubby’s a frightfully busy man,” Mrs. Woolley remarked. “He isn’t at home a great deal, but he likes me to do everything on the most liberal scale--always has done--and he said to me, ‘Amy, you’re not strong,’ he said, ‘even if you have a high colour’--so many people are deceived by that, Mrs. Palmer--‘and you’ve got to have help. Someone who can be a bit of a companion to you when I’m out on my rounds or busy in the surgery, and who you can trust with Gladys and Sonnie.’” “I’m sure Elsie would like to help you, Mrs. Woolley, and you’ll find her to be trusted,” Mrs. Palmer replied firmly. “I’ve always brought up my gurls to be useful, even if they _are_ ladies.” “She looks young,” said Mrs. Woolley critically. “She’ll put her hair up before she comes to you. It may be a mother’s weakness, Mrs. Woolley, but I’m free to confess that Elsie’s my baby, and I’ve let her keep her curls down perhaps longer than I should.”