“Yes, you may say so. Well, for the last ten years she has had an invaluable maid—Fernanda, a Portuguese half-caste, a treasure, who waited on and nursed her, and took entire charge of the housekeeping. Fernanda understood my tastes to a T—the curries and stews and blood sausages that I am fond of, and was a rare hand at coffee. Then came a blow! Fernanda made up her silly mind to marry a Scotch engineer and go to Australia. I was at my wits’ end the day she gave notice; I said to myself: ‘Ach Gott! what can we do? No maids in Rangoon, and meine liebe Flora so helpless!’ Then a splendid thought came into my mind—her nieces! Flora is fond of her family and has often talked of your mother, and of you, so I wrote off at once, and—here you are!” Sophy was about to speak, but he laid a heavy, restraining hand upon her arm and continued: “There are just one or two little things I wish to say. Your aunt has a clever ayah who knows what to do, and when she has her attacks I leave her alone—by her own wish. Also, she doesn’t like to have her health noticed—though everyone knows that she’s more or less an invalid. I believe, if her mind were diverted and occupied she would be better.” “I’m a pretty good nurse,” began Sophy; “I’ve a Red Cross certificate and I like nursing——” “Oh, that is of no use,” he interrupted impatiently. “You must nurse her _mind_; amuse her with cards, reading, games, music—that is your job. Well, then there is the housekeeping; you will have to take the place of Fernanda. She looked after the servants, the mending, the stores, and the cooking—you shall step into _her_ shoes. Of course, it will be an immense responsibility for a young girl.” As he spoke he turned his head and looked at his _vis-à-vis_ with a glance which seemed to imply that he was endowing her with an empire. “Of course, I am aware that you English are slatternly, ignorant, and extravagant managers,” he continued pleasantly, “but my excellent friend and neighbour, Frau Wurm, has promised to take you in hand.” “But I’m afraid I could not undertake all this,” protested Sophy. “I know very little of housekeeping in a large establishment. I can knit and sew, make coffee and savouries, arrange flowers—and that’s about all.” “Gott! Gott! Can you not make confitures and cakes and salads? Confiture I must have with every meal—a nice saucer of cherries or raspberries or greengages, so good with meat. Well, well, never mind, you shall soon learn. Frau Wurm will teach you much. We no longer see company—just two or three men to dine and smoke; your aunt has dropped her English circle. The English community changes, and many of her old friends have gone away or died—and a good job, too! We live in the German quarter and are surrounded by compatriots. You speak German, of course?” “No—only French; German is so difficult.”