"Well, I am just rattled," Matilda admitted. "Then you'll be leaving home quite, dearie?" "Yes, Tild--and I shan't be sorry except to be parted from you--but I daresay I shall be able to come and see you now and then." Matilda looked tearful. "You never were one of us, Katherine." "No, I know I never was. I often have wondered what accident pitchforked me in among you, always the discordant note and the wet blanket. I hark back to someone, I suppose--I've always determined to get out, when I was ready." "You never did care for us--never, Kitten." Katherine Bush remained quite unmoved. "No, never for the others--but always for you, Tild--and I'll never forget you, dear. There, don't be a donkey and cry--the people at the next table are looking at you." This argument she knew would calm her sister--who was intensely sensitive to everyone's opinion. "And supposing they don't take you?" Matilda suggested, in a still quavering voice, "and you've given notice to Liv and Dev--I call it awfully risky." "Then I will look out for something else--I am determined to make a change, and see a new world, whatever happens." After supper that evening, Gladys was invited up to the warmed attic with Matilda, an honour she duly appreciated. They all stood in irritated awe of Katherine. "I want to talk about clothes, Glad," she said, when they neared the tiny fireplace. "I have told Tild I am going about a new berth on Saturday." This caused the same astonishment and exclamations as Matilda had already indulged in--and when calm was restored, Gladys was only too pleased to show her superior knowledge. "I don't want to hear about any of those actresses you dress, or those ladies who look like them, I want to know what a real, quiet, well-bred countess, say, would have, Glad." Miss Gladys Bush smiled contemptuously. "Oh, a regular frump, you mean--like the ones we can't persuade to have tight skirts when they are first the fashion, or loose ones when it changes--that is easy enough--it is to get 'the look' that is difficult." "They probably would not engage me if I had 'the look,'" Katherine remarked cynically. "You'd better have something like we made for Lady Beatrice Strobridge last week, then," Gladys suggested. "One of our hands can copy it at home, but there won't be time by Saturday. You'd better wear your best blue serge and get a new hat for the first meeting." "Lady Beatrice Strobridge must be the Hon. Gerard Strobridge's wife, my new employer's late husband's nephew. Strobridge is the Garribardine name." Katherine had looked up diligently the whole family, and knew the details of each unit by heart. "She only got married two years ago," Gladys continued. "She was Thorvil, before--Lady Beatrice Thorvil." "Wife of the present man's younger brother," quoted Katherine, remembering Debrett. "He is about thirty-five; the present man is forty."