"The young person," she announced, and her disapproving expression changed to one of downright horror as Mr. Wycherly rose to his feet to receive his visitor. She was a short, stout young woman, dressed in a bright blue coat and skirt of the shade known by drapers as "Royal." Her hat was large and was trimmed with tumbled pink roses. Her hair was frizzy and flamboyant and her boots creaked—Mr. Wycherly thought to himself—infernally. "Pray be seated," he said courteously. The young woman selected a chair as far off as possible and giggled affably. "I understand," he began in a faint voice, "that you think you would be able to undertake the duties of—er—thorough general servant—that I believe is the correct term?" "I always ’ave been general," the young woman replied, "though I did think of betterin’ myself, but Mrs. Councer she said as yours was a heasy place with no missus naggin’ at you an’ I thought it might suit me so I come along to have a look at things. It’s a largish ’ouse for one but I suppose you don’t ’ave much cookin’ and waitin’." "But there are three of us," Mr. Wycherly interposed eagerly. "I’m afraid that you would find it too much. You are rather young to undertake the entire management of this household. You see there would be the housekeeping to do—ordering, books to pay and so on, as well as the actual work." "Oh, I could do all that," she replied confidently. "I’ll do the shoppin’ meself. I likes a run out between my reg’lar times, an’ I’d see they didn’t cheat you in the books, puttin’ down things you’ve never ’ad." Miss Fairfield smiled happily at Mr. Wycherly. She liked his looks. She was sure he would be easy to live with and probably would be unaware of the existence of the followers. In common with every woman ever brought into personal relations with him, she was certain that he was in need of protection from the others, and decided there and then that it was her mission to see that he wasn’t put upon by anybody else. "When will you be requirin’ my services?" she asked. Mr. Wycherly gasped. "I should require to consider the question," he said feebly, "and it is usual, is it not, to give some——" "My last mistress’ll give me a character. I was there six months and she almost went down on ’er knees for me to stop; but I couldn’t, it was such an ’eavy place." "Are you a good plain cook?" Mr. Wycherly asked, feeling here indeed was a leading question; some of Lady Alicia’s instructions were gradually recurring to his mind. "Can you—er—do fish?" "Fry fish, why bless you, sir, my last place was a fried-fish shop, that’s why I left. One gets tired of frying morning, noon and night. I can do plain roast and boiled and milk puddin’s an’ that, but I don’t profess to do pastry."