Mollie’s bad temper was revealed by a sudden tightening of the lips and a flushed face. She bent across an “occasional” table and peered over the old lady’s shoulder, and spoke rather impudently. “Excuse me, ma’am, but that’s _my_ novel, if you don’t mind.” “I _do_ mind,” said Mrs. Heywood. “I was shocked to find it on the kitchen dresser.” Molly tossed her head, so that her white cap assumed an acute angle. “I was shocked to see that it had gone from the kitchen dresser.” Then she lowered her voice and added in a tone of bitter grievance-- “Blessed if one can call anything one’s own in this here flat.” “It’s not fit literature for _any_ young girl,” said Mrs. Heywood severely. She looked again at the flaunting lady with an air of extreme disapproval. “Disgusting!” Mollie rattled the tea-things violently. “It’s good enough for the mistress, anyhow.” Mrs. Heywood was surprised. “Surely she did not lend it to you?” “Well--not exactly,” said Mollie, with just a trace of embarrassment. “I borrowed it. It’s written by her particular friend, Mr. Bradshaw.” “Mr. Bradshaw! Surely not?” The old lady wiped her spectacles rather nervously. “A very nice-spoken gentleman,” said Mollie, “though he does write novels.” Mrs. Heywood looked at the author’s name for the first time and expressed her astonishment. “Good gracious! So it is.” Mollie laughed as she folded up the tea-cloth. She had gained a little triumph, and scored off the “mother-in-law,” as she called the elderly lady, in the kitchen. “Oh, he knows a thing or two, he does, my word!” She winked solemnly at herself in the mirror over the mantelshelf. “Hold your tongue, Mollie,” said Mrs. Heywood sharply. “Servants are not supposed to have any tongues. Oh, dear no!” With this sarcastic retort Mollie proceeded to put the sugar-basin into the china-cupboard, but seemed to expect a counter-attack. She was not disappointed. “Mollie!” said Mrs. Heywood severely, looking over the rims of her spectacles. “Now what’s wrong?” “You have not cleaned the silver lately.” “Haven’t I?” said Mollie sweetly. “No,” said Mrs. Heywood. “Why not, I should like to know?” Mollie’s “sweetness” was suddenly embittered. She spoke with ferocity. “If you want to know, it’s because I won’t obey two mistresses at once. There’s no liberty for a mortal soul in this here flat. So there!” “Very well, Mollie,” said Mrs. Heywood mildly. “We will wait until your mistress comes home. If she has any strength of mind at all she will give you a month’s notice.” Mollie sniffed. The idea seemed to amuse her. “The poor dear hasn’t any strength of mind.” “I am surprised at you, Mollie.” “That’s why she has gone to church again.” Mrs. Heywood was startled. She was so startled that she forgot her anger with the maid. “Again? Are you sure?” “Well, she had a look of church in her eyes when she went out.” “What sort of a look?” asked Mrs. Heywood. “A stained-glass-window look.”