“‘Now, young women,’” she would say, “or young _persons_, I suppose we are, ‘remember and pass to the left; take from the right. Never speak unless spoken to. A sociable waitress is bad form. Step softly and slow. Bring in and take out one thing at a time. Don’t stare, or seem to see anybody. Mr. Alex. is very particular to have his guests served properly.’ Mr. Alex.! I am anxious to see him. I suppose he is a great swell, but not greater than I have waited on in Boston, and who didn’t feel too big to say, ‘How are you, Polly? Mind and bring my soup hot, or tea or coffee, and get me some cream.’ I know a thing or two about a table as well as old mother Groves with her silk gown and gold glasses. Why, she was once waiter in a second-class restaurant in New York. I know it from a woman who was with her. Now she is matron of Maplehurst and feels big, but I don’t care for her. I shall say ‘good-morning’ if anybody says it to me,” and Polly executed a part of the skirt dance to finish her speech. Naturally Nos. 1, 2 and 3 laughed at her performance, and shared her opinion of Mrs. Groves and her desire to see Alex., who had been held before them as one sure to detect the slightest departure from the deference due him and his guests from his employees. Of the four Sherry cared the least, and yet on the day when he was expected with his party she began to feel a little nervous, and to wonder what he would think of his quartette and of her. They were standing now in a row before Mrs. Groves, who was very imposing in her black satin dress, her old lace, gold-bowed spectacles, and her bunch of keys jingling at her side. “Now, young women,” she said, “I expect you to do your best, and remember it does not matter that you are clerks,”—she would not say salesladies and stenographers and restaurant waiters,—“and—” she paused and glanced at Sherry, not knowing where to place her. Polly, who admired Sherry greatly and styled her the Duchess, spoke up and said, “A real lady.” Mrs. Groves frowned, and continued: “No matter what you have been, real ladies, or what, you have hired out to do certain duties, and I expect you to do them to the satisfaction of Mr. Marsh, whose orders I am carrying out. If not, you will be dismissed.” “Who will take our places?” Polly asked; and Mrs. Groves replied, “Plenty are ready to jump at the chance. Don’t think we are dependent on you.” Polly, who knew the difficulty there was to get help anywhere, shrugged her shoulders in a way which brought a sourer look than usual to Mrs. Groves’ naturally sour face. “Mr. Marsh can command the best of help,” she said, “and expects the best of service, and so does his family. Mrs. and Miss Marsh are more particular than he,—that is,—more exacting. Ladies always are of their servants.”