"Don't tease, Jenny; I won't have it," laughed Marion. "I don't mind preparing the ham toast the least in the world. It is so seldom that we have anything for breakfast that needs more than five minutes cooking, and it would have been such a pity not to have ham toast when the opportunity came." "Are you ever going to let Abigail do any of your cooking?" asked Ada. "Give us fair warning if you do, or, at all events, do not allow her to have too much scope for startling innovations." At this the others laughed. Abigail was a girl of thirteen from the National School in the next street. She was a "half-timer." That is to say, she had only to spend half her time at school, either morning or afternoon, as she preferred. So she came from eight to nine every morning to brush the floors and wash up, and on every alternate morning she stayed until twelve o'clock and turned out a room, Marion superintending her work and giving her such help as she could spare from her cooking. Abigail was provided with breakfast, consisting of cocoa and bread and butter, and on days when she turned out a room she had dinner at twelve o'clock. Then she went home. She went to school in the afternoons, and at half-past six came back to "The Rowans," as the little house where the three friends lived was called (in honour of a mountain-ash in the front garden), to lay the table, dish up the seven o'clock dinner, clear away, wash up, and put everything ready for the next morning. Abigail's wages were two shillings and sixpence a week. Dinner was always over by a quarter past seven. "I have not seen any signs of culinary genius at present," said Marion, "so I do not think you need fear for the present. In the meantime, have you two girls had enough? I must insist on your eating good breakfasts." "Don't you begin to scold us, Mrs. Housekeeper," cried Jenny. "What about the lunches that you eat? You let out some shocking facts about some biscuits and a glass of milk the other day. I shall bribe the hand-maiden to watch you and see that you take proper care of yourself." Marion meekly promised to be constant in her attentions to the brawn or similar solid dainties, and the two sisters, who by this time had finished their breakfasts and put on their things, kissed their friend affectionately and set off. Marion helped Abigail to wash up the breakfast things, and then set her to work in the sitting-room. Abigail's full name was Susannah Abigail Bellamy. "Please, ma'am, we call 'er 'Susie' at 'ome," said her mother when Marion went to engage her, but the Orlingburys thought the name "Abigail" such a delicious one for a little housemaid that they insisted on using it, and Abigail grinned delightedly. Ada and Marion had provided her with neat print dresses and good serviceable aprons, and Jenny had prevailed upon her to put back the larger portion of a very unbecoming fringe, and had even managed to get her to do her hair so that it did not stick out in tufts.